James Kelman - Mo said she was quirky

It was almost like claustrophobic. Or no, what was it? Some other phobic. A phobia. She had experienced a thing similar in the past to do with confidence, and her ex, it was him and whatever, she didnt know what to do just like standing still, that was all, like a panic but just so quietly and that cold sweat, just so — not able to move.

She was not cold. She didnt feel cold, she wasnt, except shivering, if she did, if she was.

She was cold.

On the other side of the street, what was that? a walkway? There was a grass verge then a walkway, concealed partly by bushes. This skirted down a little slope. How close was the river? One of the main city bridges was less than what away? A good walk. In this vicinity homeless people were rumoured to live underground. Caroline believed it: Jill didnt. Neither did Helen because where? It seemed impossible. Although there were places farther along where the bank of the river rose quite high and you could imagine underground chambers and passages. Old London, it was a creepy place with these old underground streets and stuff from ages back. It was so not far-fetched. Really. And these old mine-workings. Nobody even knew where they were, except they were everywhere, old mines and dead bodies, trapped workmen in their vaults, collapsed beams and landslides, all the coal breaking through and smothering you, like the worst dream imaginable, being a miner. These underground places could connect via the sewers, like in movies about New York, opening a cover in the street and hearing voices, seeing lights and down you go and people all are living there, flotsam and jetsam, the dregs, they called them the dregs but they were just people. But how ever could they enter without being seen? The police stood by and watched, or else had their camcorders in position, recording everybody, escaped murderers and serial killers. You couldnt believe what you heard or read. People blabbed and told lies in the newspapers and television, reporters and politicians, men of the church, you saw their faces when they were telling you, child abusers, and they were just like blabbing and it was all lies, people hanging themselves and apples in their mouths, to do with perversions and all the sordid details, dressing up like chickens or babies wearing nappies. Laughable if it wasnt so dreadful, and they didnt care if it was babies anyway, they didnt care, just like their own needs and desires.

She was not going along the walkway. There was lighting. She was not going. If it was a place the two homeless guys would have gone. Probably it was, if there were benches; probably there were benches. So a place to sit, to rest, if you were homeless. God. But Helen was not going along it. These places were creepy, very very. Okay she was brave but not foolish.

She was brave.

But she was.

One thing about working in casinos, like creepy guys, it prepared you for them. Every night of the week there was something, including ‘propositions’. She told Mo about them, she shouldnt have. It was to see the funny side. Although it was true, men did ask her out on a regular basis, and they werent all drunk! And they werent all creepy. Some were nice, not bad and not horrible. Mind you it was better he didnt know about them. That was a mistake she made with her ex. She thought he wanted to hear. He said he did but he didnt. Some did: they liked hearing about other men fancying their women or whatever, even sleeping with them, him and his nude sunbathing, why didnt he do it? Helen nearly told him about Mr Adams. He was the very one she wanted to tell. That was so so strange. He was the very one never to tell but she was wanting to, so so wanting to and like having to stop herself doing it, put a scarf in your mouth my God what would he have done he would have killed her.

A car coming. She turned her head to avoid the appearance of looking, in case the driver thought something he shouldnt. The car continued on but quite slowly like she was ‘on the game’, if they thought that, the driver. God, if she had been. She wouldnt have been walking the street. Never, never never.

What would she have been doing?

Not in the street anyway! My God it was so so uncomfortable!

But it wasnt funny why was she smiling? she was smiling, why was she?

It was cold and damp, at least not raining, very quiet, lonely. The car had gone thank heaven.

She would have had a proper flat, not taking terrible chances down alleyways and car-park spaces; behind bushes in grass squares and even the back closes of office buildings, it was appalling, there was always news of prostitutes found dead, and tortured; tortured. Men tortured them, they tortured the women, the worst most horrible things. How could people torture people? Other human beings? What happened in their life? Something must have happened. They couldnt just be evil. Mo said they were like if they had lost God, if they had turned from Him, so they had to find Him again, because it was Hell if they didnt. Mo believed in Hell. He didnt say he did. But he didnt say he didnt. He was supposed to. Hell was there and so were angels like for Catholics and Protestants. If he believed in them. Perhaps he did. Although not Hell, surely not Hell? Not with children. How could you with children? It was horrible if he did. Because just like that was his belief , and he was clever, he was, and just common sense, that was Mo, common sense, so if he believed in Hell. He didnt say he did but he didnt say he didnt.

Although Helen did believe in God. Truly, she did. What else could explain things? She hadnt been sure before but she did now, she really did, she did believe. But not Hell. Imagine children, that was so so unimaginable , just like — unimaginable.

But she would have had a proper flat. She wouldnt have taken such risks. These women took terrible risks. Why do people take such risks? Helen would never have walked the streets.

She smiled at the thought, even she could have laughed; almost she could have. It was so ridiculous. The conversations she had with herself were fantastic. Now she was a prostitute and being choosy about her clientele! What next? Even as a child. Honestly, she hadnt changed. In school she was known for it. She once told her schoolmates that her mother was a famous dancer and her legs were the longest of anybody and had to be insured for lots of money in case they got broken and she couldnt dance. Her pals believed her! What is wrong with an imagination? Children have them, like it or not. They need them too. They take you out yourself, and you need that, coorying down with the blankets over your head, into your own wee world and just safe and away from everything, away, that was all, she wanted that and needed it, like a lot of children, that was her; she was not unique, she was so not unique. She didnt care about any of it, only having to find things out. Children do, they have to. Because if the adults dont tell them. Why dont they tell them? Why dont adults? They dont tell them. Tell the children. So so horrible and unfair. So they have to find out for themselves, if the adults dont tell them. So they make mistakes. Helen made mistakes. Girls do. All children. Sometimes it was funny, like so funny, just how the misunderstandings. Sophie got all mixed up with what she was to do and not to do. Strangers were bad because they said naughty words. No Sophie. Perhaps they did but that wasnt why children had to avoid them. Like taking sweets from strangers; if you didnt take them the strangers would take them away and give them to somebody else; take what away? the sweets or the children? It was comical.

Helen would have gone with anybody when she was a child. It was only natural. Sophie was the same. Only never hit her. Never hit a child. Why hit a child? And if it is not her fault? It is so horrible.