James Kelman - The Burn

Thanks.

The spark. Either ye’ve got it or ye havni.

Aye, thanks a lot.

Hasta la vista, it’s true.

That’s a boost to my ego that.

It’s true but.

You had it I suppose?

Naw did I fuck, I was Mister Hang-Up as well.

No like me ye wereni.

I was — how d’ye think I hung about with Sammy! The cast-offs. I blamed my home-life, being brought up in a houseful of women. I was too aware of the species. See like in the bathroom when I was a wee boy it was always tampons and stick-on towels; perfumes and deodorants; bottles of this and bottles of that; everywhere ye looked — ye went to wash yer hands in the washhand basin and guaranteed ye knocked something flying, guaranteed. Plus all the knickers and bras lying about.

Fin chuckled.

Honest, it’s the wrong experience, it throws ye in on yerself. Talking with yer wee mates at school, ye had to kid on ye didni know anything, ye didni want to be disloyal. Maybe if I’d had a brother. .

I had two of them; we fought like fuck.

Yeh but at least it prepared ye for the outside world, the mysteries of the other sex.

I had a sister too.

Aw, ye were a well-balanced bastard then?

Aye.

So that’s that analysis fucked. Naw but seriously, I’m sure it musta had some effect.

In what way?

Who knows? Probably I shoulda turned out gay.

That’s what Freud would tell ye.

Would he?

Fin smiled.

It wouldni surprise me. Relationships have all been bad.

Ye still listen to Dylan! Fin laughed.

I thought everybody still listened to Dylan.

I mind the one time I was up in yer house, in yer bedroom, we had the records on; bottles of Newcastle Brown, Dylan blasting it out — Idiot Wind, yer maw brought us up toast and scrambled egg.

That’s right.

Me you Sammy, Toby, Vic Edwards. .

Yeh.

Noisy bastards we were; yer maw musta had some patience.

She was just deaf.

Aw. Was she?

Naw. Derek shrugged, Like ye say, she had a lota patience. A while ago that.

Ten year.

More like twelve.

Twelve. . aye.

Aw dear. Derek sighed. Fuck. It was good ye phoned.

Give us a break.

Naw, fuck, it was. I mean come on, if you hadni phoned that was that christ, nothing. And that’s my life ye’re talking about, Glasgow, that’s it, that’s fucking it.

Fin was silent.

That’s fucking it.

Fin had begun playing an imaginary violin. And Derek smiled: Yeh, I know. See I dont want to belabour the point but I’m no in touch with any cunt. When I was up the hill it was all wee cliques. It was like they all knew each other already. As if they’d all went to the same primary school the gether. Honest, that’s what like it was.

Derek, it’s natural feeling that.

Yeh well. But that’s how I fell back on Sammy.

Cause everybody else was avoiding him?

Come on, he was popular. And in comparison to the rest of them I mean fuck sake.

Right enough, he could aye talk a good painting.

At least he had his own ideas, and he was interested.

Fin sighed.

He used to trip up McAllister.

Big deal.

Fuck sake Fin.

Well McAllister: one more chronic ego — fucking tripping him up, that isni much.

Christ what ye expecting off a first-year student?

Sammy’s a pseudo bastard. Always was and always will be. Still thinks he’s Modigliani for fuck sake. How the hell Isobel stands for it I dont know.

Derek smiled. Ah he’s alright.

He’s no alright at all.

Derek shrugged.

He isni.

I think ye’re expecting too much.

It’s no a case of that Derek, ye just spot a pseud a mile away. Fin sniffed. Anyhow, I dont want to spend time talking about him. What’s the point, ye know, past tense — it’s what folk’re doing now that interests me, and he’s doing fuck all, fuck all that I’m interested in. Fucking wine-and-cheese parties. . Fin started rapping his knuckles on the edge of the table, he kept it going for several seconds before glancing at Derek:

But Derek spoke first; It’s a class thing with you Fin come on.

I know it’s a class thing with me so what?

Ye’re sounding awful bitter.

Aw.

Ye are.

Is that right?

It’s no his fault his parents had money.

That’s fuck all to do with it, the fucking money, I’m no bothered about that. He swallowed a mouthful of beer.

What then? What ye got against him?

I’ve no got nothing against him.

Ye have.

He’s just fucking irrelevant.

Derek stared at Fin, then at the table; he put his hand on the pint tumbler and gripped it.

Irrelevant.

Derek sniffed slightly, he looked at Fin.

Sorry. Fin turned his head away and muttered through his teeth, Fucking class thing! Fuck sake. .

Derek relaxed his shoulders. He glanced round the room, it was busy, busy; he was gripping the pint tumbler again. He began to say something but so did Fin and they both stopped. It was Fin continued: Dont fucking take this the wrong way Derek right?

Take what the wrong way?

What I’m gonni say.

What ye gonni say?

Dont take it the wrong way.

I dont know what it is yet.

Fin was silent.

On ye go but.

Fin sighed.

I’ll no take it the wrong way.

Jesus christ.

Go ahead.

Fin scratched his head, he glanced at a group of people sitting at a nearby table, they were talking loudly and laughing. He waited a moment before speaking: Ye see, what it is. . dont fucking take it the wrong way now.

I’m no gonni.

See what you done, it was so valuable, so valuable.

Derek watched him.

Knocking the stuff I’m talking about. I’m serious. It was man. For us: us from the sticks, ye know, the ones that thought we were unique.

What ye talking about?

It was a lesson. It put us in our place — put us back in our place. Aye it was a class thing, a total class thing.

Come on.

Ach come on fuck all man they had it drummed into us, the cream of the crop, we were special, so fucking ‘special’! Fin glared at Derek. The pride and joy! We were on our way. Fame and fortune. The very worst was if we wound up with some good class white-collar job in an office. All that sort of crap. I’m thinking of my family, the way they saw it. Then for us it was art, ye know I mean art; art — that made it even worse. I’m talking about for us, the fucking hillbillies. Because we could fucking be rebels at the same time. We could relax while we were getting on in life; we didni have to feel guilty. Know what I mean?

Derek shrugged.

We were playing games. We were. Fucking pathetic. My maw and da are still like that ye know, they’re still expecting great things. Me on the broo; that job in the Parks Department, they think it’s all a phase; they’re still walking about on a wee cloud of gold, cotton wool or something, candy-floss. They’re expecting me to get the call any minute. Our specialness, that’s what we had to contend with — we were brought up with it. It drove us apart. Fucking isolated us man, the tip for the top. You’re talking about primary school: see in mine, one of the fucking teachers there told my maw I might be up to university standard. Can ye believe it? Fuck sake! Eleven years of age I was. And it fucked me. It fucked me everywhere. Especially with my pals, the wee boys I went about with: word got round. And the gulf started opening then, that was when it fucking happened, the great divide. Conversations used to stop when I entered the company.

Uch away.

I’m fucking serious. There was this wee halo over my head, a golden glow. Plus they thought I was maybe a spy, the other weans, they thought I had to be carrying notes to the teacher — quite right they thought that, quite fucking right. I mean see my maw and da now, see at this very minute, cause I’ve married a lassie that works in a bank; they’re expecting their grandson to wind up fuck knows what, a doctor or something. No kidding ye man it’s like they’ve sired a thoroughbred stallion.