James Kelman - Dirt Road

Uncle John carried on talking but stopped when Aunt Maureen arrived. He kept his lips closed tightly and drew his fingers across, zipping up his mouth.

Well I hope so, she said, meals are for eating.

Uncle John made the gesture of unzipping his mouth then repositioned the food on his plate. Potatoes to the right and meat to the left. How else ye supposed to do it? he said, and winked at Dad and Murdo who were already eating.

Aunt Maureen sat for a while without touching hers. She did the same last night. Murdo wondered if she was saying a Grace to herself. Maybe she just needed a break after cooking. She had her own style of eating too like she didnt want to open her mouth too wide. She used a knife only when she had to. She cut up her meat into small pieces then laid down the knife and ate with the fork, and after most every mouthful she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

Towards the end of the meal Uncle John looked out a bottle of wine and displayed the label to Dad. Local produce, he said and offered Murdo a small glassful.

It’s too strong, said Aunt Maureen.

Och no it’s not.

You tell me huh! You see that Tom? He calls it local like Alabama well it aint Alabama. That is a wine from my own home state. That is a Kentucky wine.

Uncle John smiled. Sure it is mother but you wouldnay call it strong. Down the wine country they’d laugh ye out of town.

Oh they would huh? You telling me?

I’m talking about strong drink.

You think I dont know about strong drink? My Lord.

Uncle John smiled. What d’you say Tommy? A wee one for Murdo?

Eh… Dad frowned a moment.

I dont really want one, said Murdo.

Ye sure son? One means nothing.

If it means nothing why take it? asked Aunt Maureen.

Because it’s tasty.

Oh it’s tasty alright.

How do you know?

I know.

Uncle John gestured with his wine glass. Now this lady here; you know she has never tasted one drop of the cratur in all of her born days? What do ye make of that? And her father, if ye knew her father…!

He was no drinker.

Not at all. I’m not saying he was.

Sure he liked a beer, well so what? a beer huh, what’s a beer?

Nobody’s saying nothing about that. I was only going to say about old Poppo.

Oh now my granddaddy huh? You got something to say there?

Nothing bad.

Yeah you got that right mister. You dont know one single thing bad about him. Not about him you dont.

Nothing bad at all. Just fun. Uncle John chuckled. Old Poppo distilled the stuff.

Aunt Maureen glared at him. You cant keep your mouth closed.

That tradition is in your blood my lady is all I am saying.

Aint in my blood! She clasped her hands together on the table and glared at him again.

Uncle John sipped at his wine. Her granddaddy was called Poppo. A real mountain man. Coonskin cap and all that.

Oh now be quiet.

Him and her father took me hunting one time.

More than once, said Aunt Maureen.

More than once mother sure, I’m talking this one time the old man shot the bird! You know what I’m talking about. How old was he?

He was seventy-three. Aunt Maureen laughed and smothered it quickly.

Yeah, said Uncle John. We were going through the land up from some marshes, nearby this little pond.

The bird pond.

The bird pond yeah, that’s what they called it.

That’s its name, said Aunt Maureen.

Yeah, and a great pond too, something different about it; all weeds and rushes, frogs jumping; all of that, the dogs were with us.

You have two mister, huh?

Two beauties, yeah. See now they were looking to scare the birds out the weeds and the undergrowth so they would rise up and we could shoot them. Well not me so much. I didnay have a gun.

You couldnt shoot huh?

Not then I couldnt.

You learned mister.

I did, yeah. So we were walking, just watching the dogs, they’re gone about a hundred yards on, two hundred, and away separate from each other Murdo, that’s how they did it, the dogs trained into it.

Aunt Maureen nodded.

They scared out the birds. Just them being there. I dont know quite what it was, but then one rose up from the marshes.

Aunt Maureen sighed, shaking her head. She smiled at Murdo then looked back to Uncle John, rubbing at her mouth.

Round the side of the pond near to where we were, he said. Not over our heads but not too far away in distance this bird rose up, a good-eating bird, just rose up into the sky and old Poppo just whohh turning and raising the rifle, aimed a moment: boom! I thought he had missed. Ye’ve missed I says. He didnay say anything. Ye’ve missed I says. No now son I aint missed he says I aint missed.

Aunt Maureen laughed, smothered it again and blinked, then laughed again.

Uncle John was shaking his head. I aint missed he says.

Aunt Maureen had a napkin wiping her eyes. Uncle John was laughing just as much. Dad too was laughing. Murdo too, seeing it in his mind’s eye, Uncle John just young, and there was the bird and the old guy with the gun. In the middle of laughing Aunt Maureen managed to speak. Oh the poor thing, she said, the poor thing.

The story hadnt ended. Uncle John waved to quieten everybody down. Aunt Maureen pointed at his meal plate: Finish your food mister. You drink that wine and you forget to eat.

Okay. He smiled, took a sip of wine, calmed enough to carry on: I thought he had missed. I did. I thought he had missed.

You thought that huh? Aunt Maureen winked at Murdo and Dad.

The bird was just up there and Poppo had his shotgun down now back in his arms — you know how they hold it — just standing looking up.

What was my father doing? asked Aunt Maureen.

Oh your father, he was the same, just looking up. But he was smiling, he was smiling. Oh yeah and he told me to wait; wait he says, just wait now John you see up there, you just keep looking.

Aunt Maureen nodded; her eyes closed a moment and she had her head lowered. Uncle John touched her on the wrist, and said to Dad: Me and him got on Tommy; he was a good guy.

Dad nodded.

Uncle John smiled. And old Poppo there, the bird with its wings flapping. No son he says I aint missed. The bird with its wings; flap flap, flap; flap flap, flap, till then it stopped, it stopped flapping.

Poor thing, said Aunt Maureen. What about the dogs mister?

Oh man the dogs, yeah, they were waiting too, running in wee circles, not taking their eyes off it. It was up high too. How high would it have been? forty feet? Sixty feet! I dont know, it was high. I’m telling you that bird; that bird gave its last flap and dropped like a stone. No son I aint missed it.

My Lord…

The dogs raced each other to get it.

Did they? said Aunt Maureen.

I think so. What a shot but! And ye know something else? they didnay think it anything special.

No sir.

I came home wanting to talk about it and people just looked. Her mother and people, they just looked.

Aunt Maureen grinned. They made fun of you huh?

They laughed at me!

Sure they laughed at you, can you blame them? I cant.

All the time we were there, the first time your aunt here took me home, all they did was play tricks on me. Naw but it’s true, yer bloody sisters!

Hey! Hey now!

Yeah well they did!

Aunt Maureen peered at him. Yeah well you always always got to talk. What’s your name huh? what’s your name is it Scotch oh Scotch oh my oh my my…! Aunt Maureen frowned to Dad. He went round every one of them, where we lived, all our neighbours; every one, what’s your name now is it Mac, is it Scotch is it Irish.

They thought I was bloody IRS!

Dad laughed.

Hey now I was young, young and proud. You would be exactly the same standing there far from home. A wee Scottish boy, that’s all I was; what did I know!