Irvine Welsh - A Decent Ride

— But –

— Sorry, hen, but cannae make any allowances, it’s ma livelihood, ay.

Ah collected up n left thum tae it. Checked the missed calls n the emails oan the cheeky phone. A stack ay thum, n aw fae burds. Ah’m solidly booked!

The phone goes again n ah take the call cause it’s Jason.

— Terry. How goes?

— Good, Jase. Good, pal. Lovin the cab work and it’s aw tickin ower otherwise, ken? Listen, might have something fir ye tae look at, legal documents, ken?

— My speciality is property, Terry, but I help people buy houses, not protect people who break into them.

— Hi! Ah’ve never broken intae a hoose for years!

— Glad tae hear it. Listen, I’m coming up soon. I’ve got a bit of news. I’ve just got engaged to Vanessa. Probably wait till later next year when she finishes her master’s before tying the knot.

— Congratulations, pal. She’s a fine lassie, ah tells um, n ah wis gaunny say fit lassie, but ah mind that ehs ma son n ye huv tae make an effort.

We catch up for a bit then ah goes doon the Southern Bar wi Russell Latapy, the lappy, for the free Wi-Fi. Ah gits online and starts looking at the expensive whiskies. Ah’m fuckin blown away.

The Trinity whisky, a blend of rare stocks, including some that have been maturing at the distillery for more than 150 years is produced by Bowcullen in Glencarrock, Inverness-shire, and has proven very popular with serious collectors. The first bottle was purchased via an agent by an anonymous American buyer, described only as a ‘high-profile client’, while the second was purchased by Lord Fisher of Campsie. The third is on display at the distillery museum in Glencarrock, where it shall remain, most emphatically not for sale.

This is why Ronnie’s here; he’s got one ay the three unique vintage Bowcullens and the daft cunt’s willing tae pey $200,000 for the remaining two boatils. Or mibbe even mair. Good tae ken!

PENICUIK’S A TWO-BUS journey, sur, aye it is. Ye git one tae the Bridges, then the other yin’s what the paper called ‘a long spin out to the periphery of the city and the mining town nestling in its jaws at the foot of the Pentland Hills’. Ah eywis minded that, cause it makes the Cuik famous for bein in the paper, like it’s New York or somewhere. Aye, it does that, sur. Ah like tae sit upstairs in front lookin oot the windaes, cause it fair helps wi ma motion sickness. Aye it does, but ah’m still a wee bit queasy as ah git oaf a couple ay stoaps before the centre ay toon, headin tae muh ma’s hoose in the scheme.

Ah ken ah should huv gone tae muh ma’s ages ago, cause she nivir gits oot. Aye, she nivir gits oot at aw. Too fat tae leave the hoose since ah wis at school, n even too fat tae git oot ay bed for years now. Oor Karen looks eftir her. Now Karen’s goat awfay fat n aw. Aye sur, awfay fat.

Wir doonstairs in the kitchen n Karen makes ays a pizza. Frozen pizza. Barry. — Barry, ah goes.

— Aye, ye ey liked yir pizza, Karen goes, n she’s eatin a bit n aw. — So how’s Jinty?

Ah dinnae ken what tae say. It’s like she kens something isnae right, that wey she’s lookin ay ays. Ah dinnae like it whin folk look at ye like they ken things ur no right. Cause even if they ken something’s no right, they dinnae ken what it is that’s no right. Ye huv tae mind that. Aw sur, ye dae.

— What’s up, Jonty?

But ah jist look at her n sais, — Jinty’s left ays.

Karen’s eyes go aw wide. — Another felly?

— Ah dinnae ken. She wis oot wi some laddies doon The Pub Wi Nae Name whin Bawbag wis oan, aye. . aye. . aye. .

— Ah’m sorry tae hear that, Jonty, Karen goes. — Ah ey thoat youse wir good thegither.

Ah’m no huvin that cause they jist met at Hank’s once n they nivir goat oan, naw they didnae. It wis like her n Morag ganged up oan Jinty, n ah dinnae like that, naw sur, ah did not, cause ah’ve hud folk gang up oan me tons ay times, n it isnae nice, naw it’s no. Jist cause Jinty sais tae hur: ‘Funny aboot you n Jonty bein brar n sister, wi Jonty bein that thin n you bein awfay fat.’ Karen dinnae like that! Naw sur, she did not. Now she’s lookin at ays n ah’m gaun, — She’ll be back. She’s done it before, aye she hus. Aye.

— Well, mibbe, Karen sais in a sortay snidey wey. But ah’m no gaunny argue, naw ah am not, cause it’s barry tae be back in muh ma’s auld hoose. Aye sur, the auld hoose. The yin wi aw the China dugs oan the mantelpiece, n no jist Wally dugs, but pugs n Labradors n Alsatians n Jack Russell terriers n aw. Ah ey wanted a dug cause ah wisnae allowed yin eftir Clint died, but Jinty ey sais, ‘Dinnae be daft, what dae wi want a dug fir?’

But wi hud aw they China dugs here that muh ma liked. Ah eywis think back tae how the hoose wis whin ah lived here. — Ye mind ay Robbo and Crabbo, ah asks Karen, — the two canaries, aye sur: Robbo n Crabbo?

Karen looks intae the corner tae whaire that cage used tae hing. — Aye, ah mind wi hud tae git rid ay thum, whin real faither Henry came back, cause they went fir his chist, Karen goes.

Aye, that wis sad whin eh came back, cause eh made us git rid ay Robbo n Crabbo. Billy MacKay, he lit ays keep burds, cause eftir Robbo n Crabbo ah hud Stephane. But Stephane wis mair ay a budgie. N blue. But ah’m laughin n ah’m thinkin ay Robbo n Crabbo gaun fir the auld man’s chist, like they wir pit bulls, rippin the tits oaf um wi razor-sherp beaks, aye sur, ah’m laughin, but Karen isnae laughin, cause she’s aw sort ay upset, n then she’s greetin.

— What is it?

— Eh’s dyin, ay. In the hoaspital. The Royal. Real faither Henry.

— Aw, ah goes, thinkin, jist yin bus though, the hoaspital. That’s if it’s the Infirmary. One bus fae here. Two fae Gorgie but. Billy MacKay wisnae a real faither but eh wis better cause eh nivir battered ays but. — Aye, the hoaspital. The Royal.

— N ah feel like ah should go n see him, Karen sais, then she goes, — Ah dinnae ken what fir, eh nivir treated us right. Ah suppose cause she cannae git oot tae see um, n she points up the stair tae whaire Ma is. — Bit eh nivir treated us right, Jonty. Ay-no? Even Hank wis nivir treated right by oor blood faither. Eh trained us aw bad, ay, Jonty?

— Aye, aye, he nivir wis good. It wisnae right, ah goes. — Naw sur.

Karen’s face is aw rid, under that blonde hair. Blonde hair, aye, like Ma’s used tae be. — Eh’s still oor faither but, eh, she goes, but she’s still greetin, even mair. — That hus tae count fir something! N she looks like she’s beggin ays tae say something.

Ah dinnae like tae see a lassie greet. Jinty, gie hur ur due, she’s no much ay a greeter. But Karen’s made different. Eywis greets. Real faither Henry used tae say thit she gret at the droap ay a hat. — What’s wrong?

— Ma life’s wrong, that’s whit’s wrong! Karen bawls. — Ah’m stuck wi hur. She points up tae the ceiling, meanin muh ma upstairs. — N ah’m gaun the same wey, she sais n spreads her big, meaty airms. — Look at ays! Ah’m a pig!

— No yir no!

— Aye uh am! Naebody wid ivir fancy me!

— Aye they wid, ah tell her. N ah kin see that she disnae believe ays so ah pits ma airm acroass her shoodir n goes, — See, if ah wisnae yir brother, ah’d fancy ye! N ah dinnae ken how ah sais that, probably jist cause Karen’s kind. Aye sur, she’s ey been kind tae me, n she gied us that pizza; she did that. Whin yir awfay lonely wi Jinty no speakin, it’s nice haein folk bein kind tae ye. Aw aye.

Karen looks ays right n the eye, n goes, — Dinnae lit that stoap ye. . you bein muh brar, likes.

Her face is awfay serious n ah dinnae like this. — But ah’m wi. . ah mean. .