James Kelman - Not Not While the Giro

To allow us maximum daylight the scaffolders had erected the interior staging with minimum equipment. The platforms on which we worked were spaced about 8 feet apart. When we finished stripping a section of old lining we had to shift most of the planks and boards to the next, to make it safe to work on. But generated light was also necessary. In fact it would probably have suited us to have had the maximum scaffolding stuff rather than extra daylight. It was safe enough but we had to be careful; since the tank was circular the platforms couldnt cover the entire 18 feet. Chas had spotted a potential problem in connection with this. It was a bevel in one side. He had pointed it out to us yesterday evening.

While he went off to switch on the compressor I fiddled around with the air-hoses, giving Sammy a chance to sneak on ahead into the tunnel; somewhere inside was a place where he planked the chisels and other stuff. He was a bit neurotic about thieving and wouldnt even tell us where he kept it all.

It was a fair climb to the section we were on. One of the snags of the job was this continual climbing. The chisels kept on bouncing out the hammer nozzles and it seemed like it was my job to go and get them — and when they fell they always fell to the bottom of the tank. Once Chas arrived we adjusted the hammers onto the air-hoses and fixed on the chisels then one by one we triggered off. Half an hour later we stopped. Earlier in the week I got a spark in my right eye; while along at the First-aid I discovered we were not supposed to stay longer than 30 minutes without at least having a quarter of an hour break out in the open.

Sammy had gone off to make his morning report by telephone to the depot. Back at the lochside he explained how Joe had been unable to drive up yesterday. They had needed him for an urgent job. But he would definitely arrive some time today.

Is that all? I said, What I means is did they no even apologise?

Aye, what would’ve happened if we were skint! said Chas.

Well we werent skint.

That’s no the point but.

I know it’s no the bloody point. Sammy sniffed, then he nudged the spectacles up on his nose a bit. The trouble with you son you’re a Commie.

Naw I’m no — a good Protestant.

Sammy snorted. After a moment he said, I could always have seen that whatsisid, Williams, he would’ve subbed us a few quid.

Aye and that’d be us begging again!

He’s right, said Chas. They must be sick of the sight of us in this fucking place. Fucking boilersuits and breathing-masks by Christ we’re never done.

Aw stop your moaning.

Heh, you definitely no going to the club the night?

None of your business.

Chas grinned, Course he’s going. Saturday night! Dirty auld bastard, he couldnt survive without sniffing a woman.

Ah well, said Sammy, nothing wrong with sniffing. And I’ll tell you something. .

We know we know — when you get to your age it’s all your fucking good for.

Sammy laughed.

Joe turned up in the afternoon, during one of the breaks out the tank. We were at the shore, skliffing pebbles on the surface of the water. The last time he came we were doing exactly the same thing. The time before that we had been standing gabbing to one of the storemen, and it was pointless trying to explain about conning the fellow out of a couple of new boilersuits. Joe never heard explanations. His eyes would glaze over.

Heh Joe, I said, the First-aid people said we were supposed to get a quarter of an hour break every half hour, because of the fumes, the chlorine and that.

Is that right. . Joe nodded. He was lighting a cigarette, then chipping the match into the loch.

That’s what they said.

Aye, it’s kind of muggy. . He gazed towards the head of the loch where several small boats were sailing north, the gannets flying behind and making their calls. He sniffed and glanced at his wristwatch, and glanced at Sammy. Fancy showing me your bevel? he said.

Aye Joe.

They walked up the slope. We waited a bit before following. Joe had gone off alone, and Sammy paused for us to catch up with him. He’s away to see if whatsisid’s arrived yet — he’s supposed to be coming in to see the bevel. . Pulling a rag from a pocket he wiped his brow and neck, and then wrapped it round his head like a sweatband. Must be hitting the 80’s, he grunted. I’ll tell you something, we’re better off in the fucking tank.

What did he say about it? said Chas. Did he say anything?

Sammy looked at him.

The bevel I mean.

Aw aye. Naw, he’ll have to have a look.

Heh, I said, Sammy! d’you notice the way he went your bevel; your bevel. As if you’d put the fucking thing there yourself.

Ach it’s just his way. . Sammy continued walking.

Another thing, I said, I bet you he asks that cunt Williams about the quarter of an hour breaks.

No danger, said Chas.

In fact it wouldnt surprise me if he knew about it in the first place — just forgot to fucking tell us.

As usual, muttered Chas.

For God sake! Sammy stopped and glared at us.

Well no wonder Sammy, sometimes he treats us as if we were the three fucking stooges.

The boy’s right, said Chas. I notice he’s no saying anything about the wages.

They’ll be in his bloody car.

Aye and they’ll stay there as long as possible, just in case we nick away for a pint or something.

Sammy’s face reddened; he nudged the spectacles up on his nose. He turned and strode on to the tunnel. We watched him crawling inside.

Chas shrugged. We’ve upset him now.

Ach, no wonder. He’s letting Joe take the piss out him.

He’s no really.

Well how come he’s still climbing scaffolding at his fucking age? he should be permanent down in the depot.

True. Chas sniffed, Come on — we better go and show the auld cunt we still love him.

He was pounding away with the hammer. He ignored us while we were preparing our stuff. Finally he switched off the power. About bloody time and all, he said, get cracking. I thought yous had went for a pint right enough!

How could we! it’s your fucking round.

Sammy shook his head and turned back to the wall of the tank again, and triggered off. Chas winked at me. We worked on steadily. Then without having to ask I knew we were past the half hour. I saw Chas pause to demist the goggles he wore; he adjusted his breathing-mask and shrugged when I gestured at my wrist. We continued with the hammers.

About 5 minutes later the signal came from below; somebody was climbing the scaffolding. Both Joe and Williams. We stopped work. Sammy went off to show them the bevel and me and Chas had a smoke, sitting on the platform. We could hear snatches of their conversation. Williams said something about Monday being a Bank Holiday and Chas started laughing quietly. I fucking knew it, he whispered, we’ve knocked it right off.

What d’you mean?

He shook his head, then he whispered: You still fancy having a go at the Ben?

Fucking right I do, climbing it, aye. How?

Ssh.

Heh, heh yous two! Joe was calling. We got up and climbed to the next platform. He and Williams stood beside each other. A couple of yards away Sammy stared at the floor, puffing at a cigarette and scratching his head. Joe gestured us closer and said, I think we’ve got it beat. Look. . he pointed at a couple of planks. Now Chas, if you and Sammy stand at the bottom end of them the boy’ll be able to go out and do the lining.

What?

See look. . Joe tugged Chas by the elbow who then stepped aside while Joe placed the planks one on the other; he pushed them like that out over the gap being caused by the bevelled side of the tank. See what I mean? he said. And he wiped his hands.

Eh. .

Look Chas. .