James Kelman - Mo said she was quirky

All these people whose lives were alongside yours. They surrounded you. It was not suffocating. They existed alongside. You didnt know they were there and you didnt see them but there they were. They had their hopes and their dreams and good and bad all happening and they went away and led their own lives, perhaps in different cities, different countries; their lives were so faraway from your own and yet there were ripples. Look at Brian. It was just so amazing that he should have been there at that exact spot when she was in that exact taxi at that exact moment in time. If they had been one minute earlier at that junction: one minute! My God, it was so extraordinary.

And it was Caroline caused it. Imagine that, how another person, something just nonsensical. But it was. She wasted so much time in front of the mirror. Otherwise they would have saved five minutes. If it had only been Helen and Jill none of it would have happened. The taxi would have been long gone without Caroline, they wouldnt have been at the traffic lights, they wouldnt have been there, they wouldnt have seen them, it would just have been like nothing, nothing at all, none of it would have happened.

So amazing, so so amazing. Of all people. It couldnt have been otherwise. Nothing was predictable but it could never have been anyone else because life, like how amazing it is, it truly is, how some things are meant to be. The one man in the world, in the middle of millions. How could it be Brian? but it was, of course it was.

Although better if it had been Glasgow. Glasgow would have been easier. London was — what was London? Big. So big. So many places. People can hide; people hide in London. They hide. If Brian was wanting to hide. Why would he have wanted to hide?

Oh but she would have handled it better in Glasgow, it would have been so much easier, so very much my God and so so good to see him, just so good. London was awkward. Nothing was straightforward. If he was on the street living rough. Why was he?

All these years not communicating, it was inexcusable, his own father’s funeral. Oh God. Her tummy. She was not going to cry. She might feel like it but she wasnt going to. What was sadder than that? The world. Nothing was sadder, it was just the saddest.

The photographs on the floor. And Dad there, how he was standing with the posture; that was his posture, and that was his smile. She reached to lift the photograph. She studied it. Of course she knew him although he looked different. He was her father, her own one. What was he? Now that he was dead, poor Dad.

Matters she hadnt thought about for so long. But that shouting, why did he shout? he always had to shout. Men shout, why do they shout?

When Mo spoke about his father it was true affection. That was the difference. He called him ‘the old man’. Civil wars and assassinations, friends and family divided and lost. That was what they went through. Their lives had been so tough and their families before them when it was just as bad and even worse when it was all India, that was the worst of all, and it was like England’s fault although when Mo said England he meant Britain, so it was Scotland’s fault the same as England. English Imperial was British Imperial. Scotland was part of England. Foreigners thought it too. The only ones who didnt were Scottish. Dad used to go on about that, if he thought people were insulting Scotland he got annoyed. Helen didnt care, except in a small way. Others did and that was up to them, if they were proud of Scotland. Even Mo thought that and it was so patronising. He wasnt proud of England. Not Pakistan either. He didnt come from there so why should he have been proud of it? He liked Scotland. Scotch people are proud. He said that. But what did it mean? People arent whisky, if he thought Scotland was so good why didnt he go back? He could get nationalised. Helen would send him a postcard. She met some across the tables. They heard her accent and it was like they expected her to cheat for them, to deal them aces or bust the bank on their behalf. So stupid, then asking her personal questions like in front of everybody as if they shared something and other people didnt. She didnt want to share anything, not with them. Where are you from and what team do you support, meaning religion, Rangers or Celtic. A joke but not a joke. A joke for other people. She preferred not meeting them.

She didnt care about any of it, only her family, and her family was Sophie. And Mo. Yes. Mo was part of it. Mum wasnt. Of course she was. But she wasnt. Helen was part of Mum’s family but Mum was not part of hers. The same for Brian. Or not, perhaps not. Brian could be part of hers. Of course he could. He was her brother so he had the choice, if he wanted to be a good brother and a good uncle. It was up to him, if the bad feeling had gone. There was no reason to keep anything going, whatever it was. How long does it last? People’s lives ruined. Their own most of all, the ones that keep it going, so they disappear, they are the ones to suffer.

Bitterness haunts people. Why let it? Life is unfair. Of course. Everybody knows that. Events are distorted. You saw it at the tables; poor people and rich people and out on the street you had beggars and prostitutes and ill people who should have been in hospitals but couldnt get in because there were no beds; people with severe mental problems having to walk the street, it was appalling. They should have been hospitalised and werent. It was an absolute scandal. But life was full of scandals.

People waited for things. In her life too. Waiting for tea. The kettle took so long to boil. It was old, it was old. She didnt care. In a way she did but not much. Who had money these days? only rich people. Helen’s wage got them by. Mo didnt earn enough and worried about mortgages and getting into debt, however would they survive. Helen didnt. At one time she might have. Not now. It was only what it meant in the home. They didnt lack important things. It was what you were used to. If it worked it worked; the kettle worked, it just took a while. Mo was good at finding stuff but like some of it was junk, useless, from secondhand shops, horrible old smelly places. She didnt want that sort of stuff. If it was her own house never, never. He did things for the best but he was not in charge, not if it was like her own place really and truly.

How different their relationship was, thinking about her ex. And if it was dads, imagine dads; they were men you had about the house and brought you up; you had fun with dads, they showed you things and took you places. That was Mo. He was Sophie’s dad. He was the one she would remember. Not the other one; he didnt deserve a daughter’s love, because that is what it was, love; a child gave love to a parent, so if you deserved it and were worthy of it. You had to be. You could not break that trust. Never ever. Never.

My God she was so lucky; so so lucky.

But it was true. How had it happened? You say these things and think it silly and just foolish wishful thinking nonsense, but then if it isnt, if it really is happening. And it was. Helen’s life had changed. Things had been so wrong. There was no way ahead. There didnt seem to be. That didnt mean there wasnt. It only seemed that way. To you it did but other people were there, were all around, and they did it in their own individual ways, and those affected you. Even although you were unaware. Mo thought about her, even when she wasnt there. Okay smelly old places like the very worst but if he brought home something for her? then it was for her he brought it, so he was thinking of her, even there in that horrible old place.

She was not going back to Glasgow. Never. Although if she hadnt been there she wouldnt have met Mo. So good things did happen there, and happened to her. She was just ordinary. There was good and bad. Both happened and happened to everybody and she was the same. Only she was silly, so silly. Sometimes she was.