James Kelman - The Burn

Yous two are crazed eedjits, I said, that wee so-called bird you’re blethering about me shagging was Mary, the woman herself, her that walked out on me for this dirty evil bastard that she walked out on me for and I’m not a guy to go over the top, if you ever knew me at all you must at least credit me with that. And if her brothers get me I’m a dead man.

Her brothers. .?

Her brothers, aye.

Ye talking about McCulloch? said Alan.

What? I’m talking about Mary, my Mary, my fucking ex-wife — scabby bastard. Her team of brothers, I said, they’ve been after me for fucking weeks.

Aw her brothers. . Alan nodded, then frowned for a moment: Did they used to play for Brigton Garage?

Back in the bygone days, aye.

Dont start talking football, muttered Sheila.

Alan was watching me. If it’s the same ones I think it is then you’re in trouble.

Thanks.

Naw but I mean it, fucking bruisers they are, bad news.

Bad news, I know they’re bad news, they’re evil bastards, that’s what I’m saying. Christ almighty. And if I didni know I was so fucking paranoiac I would think yous were here plying me with these enormous big tomes just to weigh me down, because ye know her brothers are outside waiting to waylay me, hiding up a fucking close or something, and I’ll no be able to run.

That’s no funny, said Sheila.

I stared at the two of them. I could easily convince myself this was precisely what was happening. Here they were helping Mary’s brothers. It was a set-up. They were here to do me in. Bastards, I might have fucking known. Fate at last.

And I want to buy these books for you as well. . Sheila was saying, honestly James I mean it, as a present for old times’ sake. Especially if you and Mary are divorced. That’s a sin. When did it happen?

I studied her without saying a word. There was something up here and my memory was trying to warn me.

Eh?

I waited before giving her an answer. Five month ago. .

Five month ago! She shook her head. That’s hard to believe.

I kept on studying her.

Hard to believe. . she murmured, glancing at her man.

Mind you, I says, I would’ve thought you’d have knew already, being as how yous two were supposed to be so fucking close and all that Sheila, friends I’m talking about, you and Mary, confidantes and all that if I recollect certain parties we attended in a mutual capacity. And I’m talking about you as well Alan unless you’ve fucking spuriously forgot.

Listen, he said, and I’m being honest, if these headers are waiting outside then you’ll need all the help you can get. And I do mean handers James handers. Alright? That’s all I’m saying.

What?

You’ve got a hander, I’ll hander ye.

Thanks but no thanks.

Dont be daft.

I fight my own fucking battles.

My Alan’s a good fighter, said Sheila and she gave me a funny look.

I know he is. I’m just saying I fight my own battles, that’s all.

Sheila’s nose wrinkled: Well you aye did do didnt ye.

What’s that supposed to mean? I said. But I knew fine well the one thing it did mean; Sheila didni like me and probably never had liked me. She probably thought I had been a bad influence on Mary, because aye, the more I came to think about it, these two had definitely been close — whisper whisper whisper! Thick as fucking thieves was a better way of describing it.

Sheila was talking. And then she stopped talking, right in the middle of the sentence. As if maybe Alan had gave her a signal. I tried to think what it was she had said but I couldnt. The next thing Alan says: Come on and we’ll get you some more books James, especially now if this wife of mine’s going to be doing the buying. Ye know what like she is with money!

Naw, I said, no way, leave me alone, I want nothing to do with this.

The pair of them stared at me.

Cut it out, I says, whispering, and I glanced from them to the cashier’s desk and then to the exit, wondering if I could make a quick dash for freedom, beause there was definitely something no right about this. But there was Mr Moir watching me with a funny look on his countenance so I had to speak just to be seen to be acting naturally. I’m finished with all that personal stuff, I says to Sheila, trying to give her a smile but failing: I’m finished with it, women, yous just do my fucking nut in, I just canni work yous out at all.

Heh steady on, says Alan.

Steady on nothing, I says.

You’re a bad-tempered so and so, muttered Sheila, no wonder Mary left you for Tommy McCulloch.

Ha ha ha, I said. And Sheila gave me such a look I thought for a minute she was going to wallop me one so I stepped back. Right that’s enough, I said, that’s just bloody fucking enough! I turned and strode straight along to the cashier’s desk — I had just seen Mr Moir go into the back of the shop which meant I had a moment’s breathing space. I gave Sharon a quick smile to let her know I needed urgent assistance.

What’s up Jimmy? she whispered.

A pair of crackpots out of my past, wanting to dump this huge pile of books onto me — here, help me get them onto the table eh? Naval histories, look, unbefuckinglievable!

But Sharon stopped in her tracks. They had come up from behind me and I felt this hand clamp down on my shoulder like to about-turn me again and I jerked out from under it and turned to face them: Any more from yous two and I’ll call the polis!

We are the polis, says Sheila.

What?

You heard, says Alan.

What?

And we could do you for breach if we wanted, but lucky for you we’re off-duty and we canni be bothered.

And he was looking straight at me, contempt written all over his face. And here it was all now fitting in. Folk like you give us a pain in the neck, he was saying, we try to do you a favour for old times’ sake and look what happens.

That’s right, went on Sheila, because you used to be married to my pal when we all shared the same uniform. Whereas the truth is you were aye a bad-tempered wee bastard — you and your bloody union.

Is he giving you any trouble officer? said a voice — Mr Moir it was, coming out from the back shop.

You could say that.

We’ve had our eye on him for a while, he says, is that right Sharon?

Sharon kept her head lowered and muttered something that wasnt intelligible to me and her face went red because she was involved in dishonest company.

Is that right Sharon? says Moir again with an insinuating voice.

Dont be feart of him hen, said Sheila indicating me.

I’m not feart of him.

He’s just a wee bully.

He always was, said Alan, even when we were weans the gether in the Boy’s Brigade — until he got done for shoplifting.

Well that’s a lie for a start, I said, because not only have I never got done for shoplifting, I was never even a bloody protestant and you’ve got to be a bloody protestant to get into them, else they turn ye down, they dont let you over the door. And I gave a quick smile to Sharon, letting her see I knew she was trying to be on my side and if she wasnt allowed to because of the situation then it was fine, it was fine, and I wouldnt think any the less of her. My da brought me up a good socialist, I said.

Sharon gave me a quick smile back and I knew I had figured her out correctly; she was a great lassie and would always stand by me.

That’s the truth, I told her, we used to sing the Red Flag morning noon and night. Our house was full of books. Piles and piles of them, economic histories, political biographies, the lot.

Rubbish, said Alan.

Rubbish! What do you mean rubbish! I’m fucking telling ye the way it was.

Less of the language, replied Sheila.

Well you’re bloody upsetting me. I dont know what the hell’s going on, unless these crazed eedjit brothers of my ex-wife have fucking bribed you to find me.