James Kelman - The Burn

Fair enough.

A conversation stopper. Sorry. I’ll get the drink.

Doesni matter.

Naw I know ye were good mates.

Yeh, well.

I’m just saying what I think.

Fair enough.

Fin shrugged.

Derek watched him walk off with the two empties, a brief glance here and there as he went. But relaxed. It was his place and he was relaxed. Why not? Glasgow, it was home. But Derek was relaxed too, he felt relaxed. It was his fucking home as well.

The woman was still standing at the bar, now having a word with the big skinny guy who made her smile at something; she returned to her table carrying a tray.

Life.

There was an empty cigarette packet on the edge of the table. He shoulda brought the pad; he had a pen.

Fuck.

It would be good to get on the overnight train, just draw down the blinds, have a sleep, fucking blank it all out. What did he have to do? No much — he had half-told Marilyn he would go and see her. He could phone instead, it wouldni matter. Christ he could actually shoot off the night; there was still time; a quick taxi up the road and get the stuff packed; fuck sake.

He couldni. It just wasni on.

The sweater the woman with the stretch tights was wearing was wine in colour, almost no bulge at the chest but ye knew her breasts were probably big the way the bulge protruded lower down, her shoulders hunched slightly. Her and her mates were eating potato crisps. In his experience that’s what women did, they ate potato crisps. How come? Just a fact of life. That’s what they did. Maybe it was that stopped them getting drunk. Gin and tonic. A different type of drinking they did as well. Altogether different. They were just altogether different. Sometimes ye wondered why they ever went for a man. They were so beautiful and men wereni. Even the barmaid, probably she was just under pressure. People are under pressure. Ye never know what’s going on, what’s under the surface. Derek slept with this woman a coupla years ago and one night she burst out crying. For no reason. Just life. It was getting to her. He lumbered her from a pub up in London. She was divorced but she had a boyfriend. She wasni crying about that, being in bed with him. She was crying because of life, the things that happen, that’s what it was, except she couldni bring herself to tell him. She was really beautiful. She was too thin but and she smoked all the time. Fucking amazing; people; amazing. If Sammy was here just now they’d be moving in on the three at the table. They would. That’s what they’d be doing. That time they got off with the two lassies at the pictures along Sauchiehall Street. Fucking hell what a night; paired off in separate bedrooms and the lassie Sammy was with had just come walking in, getting fags or something, no caring, tits bouncing, no even wearing a pair of pants. The men would nevera done that. No way. No embarrassment. Just so relaxed. How come people are so relaxed? Ye wonder. Had mum ever wanted to get married again? Fucking hell he couldni even remember thinking that before. Maybe he hadni: maybe this was the first time he had ever thought it. Maybe she had wanted to. Poor mum, poor fucking mum. People’s lives. People’s lives. Fin was back. Derek smiled and reached for the pint.

Fin said: D’ye ever smoke a cigar?

Naw.

I was gonni get a couple.

I have smoked them once or twice.

Ye dont like them?

No really.

I sometimes get one.

Ye shoulda.

Fin shrugged. One thing that does occur to me. I was thinking at the bar. . And dont take it the wrong way. Just yer politics Derek, ye know, they’re bound to be different to what they’d been if ye’d stayed.

Ye think so?

Definitely.

Derek nodded.

The way ye mention Britain for instance.

What about it?

Just that there’s nay separation up here. It’s always Scotland. No just one minute and Britain the next.

What did I say?

Aw nothing really, it’s only the way ye say Britain all the time.

I didni know I was saying Britain all the time.

Aye, I mean like it was one country. See naybody does that here. Naybody. No unless there’s some sort of qualification involved. I mean that includes the fucking Tories, if they say it, they’re being ironic — or sarcastic, just trying for effect. Ye’ve got to remember when ye’re talking establishment here ye know ye’re talking Labour Party; they’re the reactionaries, that’s who we want rid of, no the fucking Tories; they dont count.

Derek nodded.

I mean they dont.

Fine.

Folk dont realise that.

Is this a lecture?

Fin paused before saying: It’s no a lecture.

Naw, come on.

It’s no a lecture.

Ye talking about Nationalism? Ye a Nationalist?

Fin sighed. Christ Derek that’s hardly even a question nowadays I mean it’s to what extent. Unless ye’re talking about the S.N.P. Is that what ye’re talking about?

I’m no really talking about anything. It’s you, ye just sat down and started blasting.

Did I?

Yeh.

Sorry.

Ye dont know anything about my politics.

True.

Ye dont. I’ll tell ye something but; see down there, people wouldni know what you were on about. To them Scotland’s nothing at all, it’s just a part of England. No even a county man they think it’s a sort of city. Yous are all just paranoiac as far as they’re concerned, a big chip on the shoulder.

Oh I know.

I’m talking about the average person. Doesni matter what grade their education is. The average person.

I came on too strong.

Ye did, yeh. I mean I didni even know I was saying Britain all the time!

Fin smiled. Ye were.

I’ll watch it in future.

Fin held his hands up: I submit.

In fact it’s hard to talk politics at all down there. I tend to keep my mouth shut. Unless I’ve had a few. Ye know they dont even know geography. They’ve got this hazy view of the world. See a place like Inverness for instance, they think it’s near Yorkshire. Next door to Crewe or somefuckingthing.

Exactly. I mean it’s bound to influence ye.

Well I wouldni deny that.

That’s all I meant but Derek, ye’ve learnt to say Britain.

Yeh cause down there it’s England, they dont even say Britain.

Aye. So let’s leave it.

Naw dont let’s leave it.

I think it’s best.

Do ye, I dont.

Fin smiled.

Dont patronise me.

Christ that’s the last thing I’m doing.

Ye dont know a thing about me.

I’m no patronising ye come on! It’s just you’ve been away so long man — there’s a common ground missing.

Yeh well so what?

It takes a while.

What takes a while?

Fin shrugged. Talking. Getting the basics sorted out. Takes fucking ages.

So what?

Fin smiled. We’ll just fucking argue.

I dont care if we argue. That’s what ye miss christ a good-going debate; I dont get it down there, it’s all one-way traffic, naybody to fucking communicate with, no properly, no unless ye bump into a black guy or something, maybe an Irishman. Apart from that. . It’s hard to open yer mouth.

Fin nodded.

Dont just fucking nod.

Well what am I supposed to do? Fin spoke quietly.

I dont know. Carry on talking about what ye’re talking.

There’s too much.

Ye are patronising me ye know.

I dont mean to.

Well ye are.

Fin shook his head. I dont mean to.

After a moment Derek replied, Okay.

Fin lifted his pint tumbler, drank some beer. They sat in silence for several moments. Fin spoke first: How long ye staying for?

Coupla days. Derek rubbed at his forehead, his eyes closed; Till I get the business done.

Is there a lot?

Yeh. Uch well naw, no really, the undertaker does most of it. Aw ye do’s pay the bills. There’s the lawyer right enough. She never left a will, my mother, she had her insurance and that but it’s one of these fucking mickey-mouse efforts; this great big certificate; it looks like the kind ye get at the carnival, if ye win a fucking coconut. It just about pays the cost of the wreath and the reception, the wake or whatever ye call it. She had her bank book. Thirteen hundred quid. No a lot eh?