James Kelman - The Burn

Who me?

Bastard.

I’m a married man.

Does that make a difference?

Unfortunately yes.

Heh, mind that time we did the walk at Glencoe?

I do aye.

That was a real highlight for me ye know.

It was a nice weekend. That wee pub down Kinlochleven.

The climbing itself I mean.

Well wait till ye get the rope on. Pity ye wereni staying a few days longer, ye coulda had a crack at it. I could aye get ye a pair of boots. .

I could get a pair myself.

Sure. But if ye couldni.

Derek nodded. Sounds good.

It is good, keeps ye sane. Cheers. . Fin sipped at the new pint.

So ye dont see anybody these days?

Nah. Apart from Matt, but he never talks.

I had this idea ye’d all meet regularly for reunions.

Aye!

Ye forget the world doesni stand still.

Fin licked the tips of both forefingers and smoothed the lines of hair round the top of his head: It’s alright for you, he said, I’m gone baldy.

Naw ye’re no.

Aye I am.

Naw ye’re no.

I am.

It doesni fucking look like it to me.

Dont be nice, I’ve known ye too long.

Derek took off the hat and laid it on the table, scratched at the crown of his head: I’m losing it as well.

Are ye fuck. Fin lifted the hat, he examined it. Nice hat. They’re in style ye know. Glasgow chic. I’ve got one myself; I didni shove it on in case ye laughed. It’s sharp as fuck but, unlike this yin!

Derek smiled. He took it back and put it on. He sipped the top of the new pint while glancing round the pub.

So: how did ye land in Plymouth?

Uch fuck long story; long boring story; it’s a short story in fact it’s no a long story at all. What about you though, how come ye chucked the Parks Department?

A fit of pique. I had a row with a gaffer.

Derek grinned.

He was a cheeky bastard.

All gaffers are cheeky bastards.

My da’s a gaffer. Course he’s a cheeky bastard too.

Ye just signing on then?

Aye. I’m looking after the wee yin though. A full-time job in itself that. I quite like it actually, changing nappies and all that, it’s aesthetically pleasing. I’ve found my métier.

Ye doing anything else?

Like what?

Derek shrugged.

Ye talking about art !

I’m talking about anything.

Nah. Fin lifted the pint tumbler. I’m just a Monroe freak. Ye know what a ‘Monroe’ is?

What?

A ‘Monroe’, it’s a hill over three thousand feet; any hill over three thousand feet; that’s what they call it, a ‘Monroe’.

Where?

Where? Scotland, where d’ye think?

Well how the fuck do I know? I was thinking ye were talking about one actual place — Glencoe or something, Aviemore. . I dont fucking know.

Nah, it covers the whole country.

Christ.

It takes fucking ages to do the lot, sometimes years. I used to get away every weekend, me and a coupla mates; no so much these days. But we’ll come again, we’ll come again.

Good.

Aye. Fin shrugged. So what about you?

Nothing really.

Ye were in Spain?

Aye but that’s a while ago, a coupla years.

Aw.

Plymouth the now but before that it was Bristol. Spain was before that again — in fact I think I’d left there the last time we met. Ye know the name of the last place I was working? the Jolly Roger, a bar in Fuengerola; the Jolly Roger! The name sums it up.

Fish and chips and pints of lager?

Just about.

I had these visions too, you with a band of rebels, shifting munitions over the mountains in southern Andalusia, on a mule. George Orwell. Or Hemingway.

Yeh.

So it wasni like that?

Naw.

Ach well, I never did trust that cunt, him and his big-game fishing. Mind you, being honest, I canni say I ever really fancied the country that much, a bit touristy for me.

No it all. Derek shrugged. Parts of it are good. If ye like climbing too I mean. . They’re fitba daft as well, the people. Some good teams.

No as good as here.

Nonsense.

Fin grinned. Ye were saying ye were up last Christmas?

I was, yeh.

Ye shoulda phoned.

I was only here a coupla days.

Still. .

Ah ye know what like it is; by the time ye see the family. . And ye canni miss one out, ye hurt their feelings. I didni stay for New Year.

Ye didni stay for New Year!

Naw.

New Year? The famous Hogmanay!

I had just started in the job.

Some Scotsman you are!

Give us a break.

Fin chuckled, raising the pint tumbler to his lips. So ye like England I take it?

Plymouth, yeh, I suppose I do, yeh. .

Fin drank a mouthful of beer.

Yeh, it’s alright. I like being near the sea. Sometimes it reminds me a bit of this place. I quite like the people.

How come ye dont go to a place like London?

There isni a place like London, it’s a one-off. Anyway I spent a bit of time there. It’s alright. I might go back. I dont think so but. A wee bit enclosed for me — no horizons.

Fin sat back on his chair and folded his arms: Yes my man, ye’ve been leading a bit of a life.

No really.

Aye ye have.

I’ve no; it might seem that way: it’s just called ‘being rootless’. Derek got up suddenly: I need a piss. He paused and muttered, See what I mean. .

Three females were sitting at a table he had to pass to reach the gents’. One especially looked beautiful, wearing stretch black tights and a short skirt. No the best place for women to be sitting. At some point in the night there could be a smell of urine. Maybe no. Two of them glanced up as he pushed open the door. A stupid thought: were they wondering about him in the act of pissing? what his prick would look like? Did women think these things? He wasni that much older than them. The door creaked loudly on its hinges. Or was he? Maybe he was. They were nice.

There was a mirror immediately inside; he paused a moment, stared at himself, the hat and the unshaven chin. What did he look like? A fucking idiot. Plymouth was alright and so was Bristol, so was London and so was Spain. Maybe he should try and phone Audrey. He wasni feeling that good. He wasni. He was feeling fairly awful in fact. No physically, mentally. Mentally just fucking fuckt. For a start he shouldni have left the job; that was just silly. But he was silly. He was stupid, he had always been stupid. He had always been stupid.

The urinals were clean, cakes of the blue deodorant stuff. His first piss of the night and the suds were a healthy yellowish brown; later on it would be a greenish white. Unless he pissed blood. Maybe he would piss blood. Maybe he was going to die tonight. Maybe this was it. Poor Audrey, waiting down there. Who would contact her? Nay cunt. Naybody would tell her. He would just have vanished. She would have to make her own inquiries. There wasni anybody up here. No unless Linda, unless Linda did it. Maybe she would. She was alright, good sister. They were all good sisters. Good family. It was a good family. Oh fuck sake. He zipped the fly then washed his hands. Why the fucking hell had he wrapped the job? He was just fucking foolish, that’s what he was, foolish. There are facts of life and ye’ve got to face them. A stupid bastard.

He washed his face, wiped it dry with his shirt, set the blow-dry going for his hands. The blood into his cheeks. He was growing a beard, he was growing a beard. A stone-cold face; greeny white with a dark beard; yellow and red tulips.

It just wasni fair. It wasni a life. No wonder ye fucking looked surprised, no fucking wonder.

He waited in behind the outside door for a few moments, not looking at the mirror, he had his eyes closed. He heard somebody approach. He didni look at the women while exiting. Some guys laughing too loud at the bar. A stupid joke probably. Ye could understand these guys that took a mad-turn and grabbed somebody and let them have it. As he sat back at the table he gave a smile to Fin and he drank some beer straightaway but the swallowing was difficult and he gulped to get it down; a bad moment and he just needed to get through it, he just should never have put the hat on, he should never have fucking wore it, it wasni his it was his fucking da’s it was his da’s and his mother had fucking nursed it man he should never have fucking wore it it was just fucking wrong; he took another drink. These bloody weird things that happen, bloody weird things, if ye had took another path in life, if ye had went another way, if he hadni went abroad, stayed in Glasgow, if he hadni done the stupid thing at Art School, if he had stayed and finished his fucking course, these things ye do, who knows what effects ye have, these things are a mystery.