James Kelman - The Burn

Auld Shug gits oot iv bed. Turns aff the alarm cloak. Gis straight ben the toilit. Sits doon in that oan the lavatri pan. Wee bit iv time gis by. Shug sittin ther, yonin. This Hon. Up it comes oot fri the waste pipe. Stretchis right up. Grabs him by the bolls.

Jesis christ shouts the Shug filla.

The Hon gis slack in a coupla minits. Up jumps Shug. Straight ben the kitchin hodin onti the pyjama troosirs in that jist aboot collapsin inti his cher.

Never know the minit he was sayin. Eh. Jesis christ.

Looks up at the cloak oan the mantelpiece. Eftir seven. Time he was away tae his work. Couldni move bit. Shatird. Jist sits ther in the cher.

Fuck it he says Am no gon.

Coupla oors gis by. In comes the wife an that ti stick oan a kettle. Sees the auld yin sittin ther. Well past time. Day’s wages oot the windi.

Goodnis sake Shug she shouts yir offi late.

Pokes him in the chist. Kneels doon oan the fler. He isni movin. Nay signs a taw. Pokes him ance mer. Still nothin bit. Then she sees he’s deid. Faints. Right nix ti the Shug filla’s feet. Lyin ther. The two iv them. Wan in the cher in wan in the fler. A hof oor later a chap it the door. Nay answer. Nother chap. Sound iv a key in the door. Door shuts. In comes the lassie. Eywis comes roon fir a blether wi the maw in that whin the auld yin’s oot it his work. Merrit hersel. Man’s a bad yin but. Cunt’s never worked a day in his life. Six weans tay. Whin she sees thim ther she twigs right away.

My goad she shouts thir deid. Ma maw in ma da ir deid.

She bens doon ti make sure.

O thank goad she says ma maw’s jist faintit. Bit da. Da’s deid. O naw. Ma da’s deid. Goad love us.

It was early evening when Lecky came along the road, already dark; the chip van was parked across by the chapel, puffs of blue smoke drifting up from its funnel. He joined the queue. The van was a converted single-decker bus; as somebody made an exit the others waiting moved up one by one onto the old platform. He bought two single cigarettes and tapped a match from a boy he knew standing behind him in the queue. When he struck the match along the metal floor the young woman working the friers frowned at him, so did a couple of the other customers. Outside on the pavement he exhaled a mouthful of smoke then took another long drag, keeping the smoke in his lungs, letting it out through his nostrils. His belly didnt feel good but being out in the breeze and away from the fumes in the van made him feel better. He smoked about a third of the fag before nipping it, and continued along and up the steep hill. When he passed the gable end of a building some drops of water landed on his face. If it was actually going to rain, that would be good; he felt like it raining because of the freshness. There was plenty of cloud about — the moon hidden and a redness making it a bit supernatural till you realised what it was, a reflection, the lights of the city.

It took twenty minutes to reach John’s close. He walked up the stairs to the top storey, flapped the letter-box on John’s door. There came an immediate thumping from inside and the door came swinging open, a wee lassie hanging onto its handle with both hands, one sock on and one sock off, her toes wedged into the crevice at the top of the bottom panel. She continued to hang there, the door creaking on its hinges. She shouted: Daddy.

Behind her a boy stood staring, he held something clutched to his mouth, a toy or something. Then John was there: Give us a minute, he said, showing Lecky into the kitchen.

I thought I was going to be late.

Nah you’re okay.

John’s wife was sitting on one side of the settee holding a teacup against her cheek. A baby lay beside her not wearing anything except a big cotton nappy, a dummy tit in its mouth. But it was awake and its eyes were taking note of what was happening. Lecky shifted his stance a little so that he was facing the television.

Minutes passed. John’s wife reached up to the mantelpiece and extracted a cigarette from the packet there. A comedy show was on and something happened which got her smiling. She said to Lecky, Do you ever watch this?

Aye, sometimes.

It can be quite funny.

He nodded. He put his hands into his jerkin pockets. The door opened while she was replacing the box of matches onto the mantelpiece. John peered in. Then he came to the fireplace and got himself a cigarette. He stood smoking for a time gazing at the television. When he moved to leave his wife said, Will you be late?

Nah, doubt it.

Lecky walked ahead of him down to the front door. The two children came out of the bedroom to watch. Time yous were in bed, said John.

The two of them stared at Lecky. He opened the door and stepped onto the landing. John paused a moment behind, he closed over the door; I’ll no be a minute, he said.

Lecky nodded, leaned his elbows on the banister, gazing down to the next landing.

There were two other doors on this top storey; one was boarded up and without a nameplate. Smudges of paint and whitewash covered the walls; a lot of initials had been scratched or pencilled in. Lecky was deciphering some when the door opened and John reappeared. Needed a slash, he said. He winked and jerked his thumb at the boarded-up door: You and your woman no looking for a pad yet?

Eh. . Lecky grinned, scratched the side of his head.

John laughed. Aye well you dont want that yin man the roof’s liable to cave in any moment. He slapped Lecky on the shoulder as they walked downstairs, gestured back up at the other door. That yin’s empty as well but. Get in and squat!

Lecky chuckled.

They continued down. At the foot of the close John told him to wait while he went through and out the back.

There was a terrible smell of cats’ piss about the place. Lecky strolled to the front close and poked his head out. It still wasnt raining.

Then John’s footsteps. Heh Lecky. . John winked and tugged back the right sleeve of his anorak; he was holding two circular steel bars about half-an-inch in diameter; their ends nestled inside the palm of his right hand. I’ve had them planked in the fucking didgie all week, he said, fucking midden men — I was worried in case they found them.

Lecky grinned.

Did you mind the busfare?

Aye, the auld man.

For me and all?

Aye, I knew you’d be skint — as usual! Lecky laughed and dodged off when John tried to land a punch on his chin. As they started walking he turned the collar of his jerkin up and gave an exaggerated shiver: Fucking freezing!

It’s your nerves!

My nerves. .!

Aye your nerves ya cunt ye.

So? Lecky grinned after a moment. Doesni mean I’m no cauld. What about you? Trying to say you’ve no got any!

Who me? Ye kidding? I’ve just been for a shite twelve times since I ate my supper.

Lecky laughed but it sounded too abrupt. He shivered again, rubbed his hands together with a smack, his shoulders hunching. They crossed over the brow of the hill and turned the corner, and could see the lights of a double-decker bus stationed away below at the terminus. John yelled: Ya bastard! And they raced off down the slope.

The guy they were meeting was waiting in a pub near the Saltmarket. He was older than John, he looked nearly thirty, he had a moustache drooping at the corners. The two of them used to work in the same bottling factory a while back. His name was Ray. He had an almost-full pint of lager sitting in front of him. John made the introductions then started in on a yarn about this bloke who drove a forklift and smoked dope all the time. But Ray interrupted him by gesturing at Lecky: Did you fill the boy in?

John paused. Aye, he said.

Ye sure?

John frowned.