James Kelman - Not Not While the Giro

The front door had slammed. When I got to the window I saw them disappear along the street.

A padlock had been fixed onto their door. It was brand new. I hadnt heard it being put on. They must have done the job while I was out and I missed seeing it when I came back. Why did they do it? They didnt have to. They could’ve let things come to a head and that could’ve been the confrontation. It would’ve all been sorted out. They didnt even know for certain it was me. It was obvious. But it wasnt certain. It could easily have been the daughter. And she had every right to do it. They couldnt know for certain it was me. But what would happen if they did? Nothing. Nothing could actually happen. They would have to speak perhaps. And they would have to be speaking soon anyway because I hadnt left my share of the rent out at the weekend. It wasnt on purpose. I just overspent. My wages havent been too good recently. I only had enough for getting to work and getting by on food for the week. But if they wanted the lounge as a bedsitter an agreement had to be worked out. The television and the carpet could be sorted out side by side otherwise — what? Otherwise what?

The padlock was a problem. The only alternative to forcing it was to go in through the window but maybe the thing was bolted down. Knowing how the old woman had been this was very likely. I went into the kitchen and looked about and then I saw a metal rod near the sink. It was long and sturdy enough. But still the snags about after. What would happen after? Who cares. Nothing to worry about — after! The padlock glinted, sparkling new. I struck it over and over but it wouldnt give. I wedged in the rod to use it like a crowbar but this wasnt working right either and I began battering it again and again then wedging it again till finally it creaked and came away, the whole apparatus including the screwnails, bright and shiny new. I booted the door open. The orange carpet was back in position but the television wasnt. Neither was anything else. Not even the sleeping bags. What happened? Had they left it all in the old woman’s room? Or packed up and left? Packed up and left maybe. They hadnt been carrying anything going down the street. They could have done it earlier on. I turned to leave and made out the big writing on the wall. HA HA HA, it said. I could check the other room or just go up the stair. It was cold in the hallway. And that musty smell.

During the early hours of the morning the boy was awakened by wheezing, spluttering noises and the smell of a cigarette burning. The blankets hoisted up and the body rolled under, knocking him over onto his brother. And the feet were freezing, an icy draught seemed to come from them. Each time he woke from then on he could either smell the cigarette or see the sulphur head of the match flaring in the dark. When he opened his eyes for the final time the man was sitting up in bed and coughing out: Morning Danny boy, how’s it going?

I knew it was you.

Aye, my feet I suppose. Run through and get me a drink of water son will you.

Uncle Archie could make people laugh at breakfast, even Danny’s father — but still he had to go to work. He said. If you’d told me you were coming I could’ve made arrangements.

Ach, I was wanting to surprise yous all. Uncle Archie grinned: You’ll be coming to the match afterwards though eh?

The father looked at him.

The boys’re through at Airdrie the day.

Aw aye, aye. The father nodded, then he shrugged. If you’d told me earlier Archie — by the time I’m finished work and that. .

Uncle Archie was smiling: Come on, long time since we went to a match the gether. And you’re rare and handy for a train here as well.

Aye I know that but eh; the father hesitated. He glanced at the other faces round the table. He said, Naw Archie. I’ll have to be going to my work and that, the gaffer asked me in specially. And I dont like knocking him back, you know how it is.

Ach, come on—

Honest, and by the time I finish it’ll be too late. Take the boys but. Danny — Danny’ll go anywhere for a game.

Uncle Archie nodded after a moment. How about it lads?

Not me, replied Danny’s brother. I’ve got to go up the town.

Well then. . Uncle Archie paused and smiled: Me and you Danny boy, eh!

Aye Uncle Archie. Smashing.

Here! — I thought you played the game yourself on Saturdays?

No, the father said, I mean aye — but it’s just the mornings he plays, eh Danny?

Aye. Aw that’ll be great Uncle Archie. I’ve never been to Broomfield.

It’s no a bad wee park.

Danny noticed his mother was looking across the table at his father while she rose to tidy away the breakfast stuff. He got up and went to collect his football gear from the room. The father also got up, he pulled on his working coat and picked his parcel of sandwiches from the top of the sideboard. When the mother returned from the kitchen he kissed her on the cheek and said he would be home about half past two, and added: See you when you get back Archie. Hope the game goes the right way.

No fear of that! We’ll probably take five off them. Uncle Archie grinned, You’ll be kicking yourself for no coming — best team we’ve had in years.

Ach well, Danny’ll tell me all about it. Okay then. . he turned to leave. Cheerio everybody.

The outside door closed. Uncle Archie remained by himself at the table. After a moment the mother brought him an ashtray and lifted the saucer he had been using in its stead. He said, Sorry Betty.

You’re smoking too heavy.

I know. I’m trying to. . He stopped; Danny had come in carrying a tin of black polish and a brush, his football-boots beneath his arm. As he laid the things in front of the fireplace he asked: You seen my jersey mum?

It’s where it should be.

The bottom drawer?

She looked at him. He had sat down on the carpet and was taking the lid off the tin of black polish. She waited until he placed an old newspaper under the things, before leaving the room.

Hey Danny, called the Uncle. You needing any supporters this morning?

Supporters?

Aye, I’m a hell of a good shouter you know. Eh, wanting me along?

Well. .

What’s up? Uncle Archie grinned.

Glancing up from the book he was reading Danny’s brother snorted: He doesnt play any good when people’s watching.

Rubbish, cried Danny, it’s not that at all. It’s just that — the car Uncle Archie, see we go in the teacher’s car and there’s hardly any space.

With eleven players and the driver! Uncle Archie laughed: I’m no surprised.

But I’ll be back in plenty of time for the match, he said as he began brushing the first boot.

Aye well you better because I’ll be off my mark at half twelve pronto. Mind now.

Aye.

It’s yes, said the mother while coming into the room, she was carrying two cups of fresh tea for herself and Uncle Archie.

Danny was a bit embarrassed, walking with his uncle along the road, and over the big hill leading out from the housing scheme, down towards the railway station in Old Drumchapel. But he met nobody. And there was nothing wrong with the scarf his uncle was wearing, it just looked strange at first, the blue and white, really different from the Rangers’ blue. But supporters of a team were entitled to wear its colours. It was better once the train had stopped at Queen Street Station. Danny was surprised to see so many of them all getting on, and hearing their accents. In Airdrie Uncle Archie became surrounded by a big group of them, all laughing and joking. They were passing round a bottle and opening cans of beer.

Hey Danny boy come here a minute! Uncle Archie reached out to grip him by the shoulder, taking him into the middle of the group. See this yin, he was saying: He’ll be playing for Rangers in next to no time. . The men stared down at him. Aye, went on his uncle, scored two for the school this morning. Man of the Match.