James Kelman - Not Not While the Giro

The man nodded. A few moments later he said, Aye.

I’m making tea, she muttered. She rose from the chair and collected a saucepan and milkbottle of water from somewhere behind, and got tea from a packet on the mantelpiece. While she prepared the things she was saying, I had to lift him myself onto the table you know, it was a job.

He sighed. Christ sake Mrs. . I wish you’d waited for me to come. When she finished the preparation he said, I’ll away and see him.

No candles burned in the kitchen but it wasnt long before he could distinguish the body quite well; it was set properly on the table, entirely covered by a blanket. There was a pile of newspapers over at the gap where the sink used to be. He walked over to look out the window. The pub was not visible from this side of this building. He raised his bunnet and wiped his brow; he went back to the table and cleared his throat as if getting ready to speak but instead he lifted the blanket and looked at the face. An old face, years older than the woman probably. He continued looking until a length of ash fell from his cigarette. He blew quickly to scatter it, id the blanket into its former place.

He shut the door behind him.

Aye. . he sighed. Some minutes passed. He took out the halfbottle and after offering her it he sipped some himself. When the bubbles were forming and bursting in the saucepan he sniffed and touched the peak of his bunnet. I think I’ll just go down the road, he said.

Are you taking the notebook?

Eh aye, he sniffed again, if you dont mind.

The woman nodded and he got the notebook. He shook his head when she indicated the other items and went away soon after.

It was a terrible night. From where we were passing the loch lay hidden in the mist and drenching rain. We followed the bend leading round and down towards the village. Each of us held an empty cardboard box above his head. The barman had given them to us, but though they were saturated they were definitely better than nothing. We had been trudging in silence. When we arrived at the bridge over the burn Chas said, There’s your hitchhiker.

I glanced up, saw her standing by the gate into one of the small cottages. She appeared to be hesitating. But she went on in, and chapped at the door. A light came on and a youngish woman answered, she shook her head, pointed along the road. The three of us had passed beyond the gate. About 30 yards on I turned to look back, in time to see her entering the path up to the door of another cottage. A man answered and shut the door immediately. The girl was standing there staring up at the window above the door; the porchlight was switched off. Two huge rucksacks strapped onto her back and about her shoulders and when she was walking from the cottage she seemed bent under their weight. Young lassie like that, muttered Sammy. She shouldnt be walking the streets on a night like this.

Aye, said Chas, but she doesnt look as if she’s got anywhere to go. It’s a while since we saw her.

I nodded. I thought she’d have had a lift by this time. Soaked as well, I said. Look at her.

She’s no the only one that’s soaked, replied Sammy. Come on, let’s move.

Wait a minute, Christ sake.

The girl had noticed us watching her, she quickened her pace in the opposite direction. Sammy said: She’s feart.

What?

He grinned at me, indicating the cardboard boxes. The three of us standing gaping at her! what d’you expect son? Sammy paused: If she was my lassie. . Naw, she shouldnt be out on a night like this.

Not her fault she cant get a lift.

Single lassies shoudnt go hitching on their tod.

Sammy’s right, grinned Chas. No with bastards like us going about.

Come on yous pair. . Sammy was already walking away: Catch pneumonia hanging about in weather like this.

Just a minute, wait till we see what happens.

He paused, glowering at me and grunting unintelligibly. Meanwhile the girl was in chapping on the door of the next cottage. The person who answered gestured along the road in our direction; but once the door had closed she gazed at us in a defiant way and carried on in the opposite direction.

Dirty bastards, I shook my head, not letting her in.

Chas laughed: I’d let her in in a minute.

Away you ya manky swine ye, cried Sammy. His eyebrows rose when he added, Still — she’s got a nice wee arse on her.

These specs of yours must have Xray lenses to see through that anorak she’s wearing.

Sammy grinned: Once you reach my age son. .

Bet you she’s a foreigner, said Chas.

A certainty, I nodded.

The girl had just about disappeared into the mist. She crossed over the bridge and I could no longer distinguish her. And a moment later the older man was saying: Right then I’m off.

Chas agreed, Might as well.

The pair of them continued on. I strode after them. Heh Sammy, can the lassie stay the night with us?

Dont be daft son.

How no?

No room.

There is, just about.

Nonsense.

Christ sake Sammy how would you like to be kipping in a ditch on a night like this, eh? fuck sake, no joke man I’m telling you.

God love us son; sharing a caravan with the three of us! you kidding? Anyhow, the lassie herself ’d never wear it.

I’ll go and tell her it’ll be okay but. I mean she can have my bunk, I’ll kip on the floor.

Chas was grinning. Sammy shook his head, he muttered: Goodsafuckingmaritans, I dont know what it is with yous at all.

Ach come on.

Sammy grunted: What d’you say Chas?

Nothing to do with me, he grinned.

Good on you Chas, I said.

Ah! Sammy shook his head: The lassie’ll never wear it.

We’ll see.

I passed him the carry-out of beer I had been holding and ran back and across the bridge but when I saw her I slowed down. She had stopped to shrug the rucksacks up more firmly on her shoulders. A few paces on and she stopped again. I caught up to her and said, Hello, but she ignored me. She continued walking.

Hello.

She halted. To see me she twisted her body to the side, she was raging. Glaring at me.

Have you no place to stay? I said.

She hoisted the rucksacks up and turned away, going as fast as she could. I went after her. She was really angry. Before I got my mouth open she stopped and yelled: What.

Have you not got a place for the night?

Pardon. . She glanced along the road as she said this but there was nobody else in sight. Never anybody in sight in this place, right out in the middle of the wilds it was.

Dont worry. It’s okay. You need a place for the night. A house, a place out the rain — eh?

What?

A place to stay the night?

You know?

Hotel, there’s a hotel.

Yes yes yes hotel, hotel. She shrugged: It is too much. She looked at me directly and said, Please — I go.

Listen a minute; you can come back to our place. I have place.

I. . do not understand.

You can come to our place, it’s okay, a caravan. Better than hanging about here getting soaked.

She pointed at my chest: You stay?

Aye, yes, I stay. Caravan.

No! And off she trudged.

I went after her. Listen it’s okay, no bother — it’s not just me. Two friends, the three of us, it’s not. . I mean it’s okay, it’ll be alright, honest.

She turned on me, raging. What a face. She cried: 1 2 3. . And tapped the numbers out on her fingers. 1 2 3, she cried. All man and me.

She tapped 1 finger to her temple and went on her way without hesitation. At the lane which led up to the more modern cottages used by the forestry workers she paused for an instant, then continued along it and out of sight.

Inside the caravan Chas had opened a can of lager for me while I was finishing drying my hair. Both he and Sammy were already under the blankets but they were sitting up, sipping lager and smoking. The rain battered the sides and the roof and the windows of the caravan.