James Kelman - Dirt Road

This band werent like that. They did the usual. The usual was good, just maybe not all the time. Except for dancing, ye had to have dancing.

At the table Aunt Maureen said how nobody was calling the moves like happened in the old days and people were agreeing with her. But sometimes back home they still did it. It was good fun. Take your partner by the hand, lead them down right to the band, turn and curtsey how do you do, clap clap hands and boogie boo; the twos step up now threes and fours, back you go straight down the floor — everybody moving in a neat formation. Murdo spotted the couple with the Phil Campbell T-shirts on the floor. Ye felt like saying, Hullo, how are ye, I’ve seen ye on the map. He pointed them out to Aunt Maureen. She made a sad gesture at the band and at her own ears. The music was too loud for her. She called a question to him: You enjoying yourself son?

Yes.

She had asked him twice already. But he was. Dad had asked him as soon as he sat down. Probably because he didnt have anybody his own age. Uncle John asked him too, Ye enjoying yerself son? Yes. So how come ye arenay dancing! Why dont ye grab a lassie!

Uncle John seemed to think ye just went up to a girl and said, Hullo may I have this dance? If ye did they would just look at ye. Probably they thought he could dance. He couldnt. People think ye can because ye play the tunes. But ye cant. You just play the tunes, they do the dancing. Musicians dont dance. That was the good side of the Hielan Mishmash: ye just got up and that was that.

The conversation shifted to the music from this afternoon, not the event with Declan Pike but the session that followed with Clara, Chess and Murdo.

Guitar isnay even his instrument, said Uncle John, it’s accordeon! Is that right son?

Murdo sipped at his drink. Yeah, he said, I suppose.

Aunt Maureen was smiling. So was Dad, but half looking at the table at the same time like he was a bit embarrassed.

Eventually Uncle John and one of the men went to the bar to place an order. A beer would have been good. Maybe Uncle John would buy him one. He had made a joke about it earlier on.

The one thing missing was a pal, so ye could just hang out, go for a walk or whatever, check things out. Then if ye did see a lassie, usually there were two together, so if a pal was with ye it made it like a foursome. On yer own it was pretty hopeless. Ye dont usually get “one girl”. A lot of “one guys” but lassies go in twos. Ye cannay ask one and not the other. Three together made it okay for one to ask one so if it was like the three girls from earlier on ye could ask one. Two would be left behind but that was okay. If the one with the white rose was there maybe Murdo could ask her. Maybe.

Aunt Maureen was chuckling, enjoying something Dad was saying to her — about Murdo, Murdo as a boy. Dad was talking about him. Another woman was listening to what Dad was saying and she peered at Murdo.

Murdo smiled at her, then got up and went a walk. He knew what Dad was telling them about, it was actually a story: The boy who fell down the pit.

Murdo headed across past the refreshments bar. It wasnt an actual pub so maybe there were no age restrictions. A beer would have been good. But $6 a bottle! That was what they were charging. He could have bought one and taken it outside to drink. Murdo continued along, skirting the dance area. People stood around the exit, smoking and toing and froing the portable toilets.

Outside it was quite deserted beyond the marquee area. Most every stall and tent had been taken down. This made it possible to see over to the carpark which was only a fraction full compared to the afternoon. Those who operated stalls and tents had dismantled them and just gone home. Murdo strolled for a little bit. It was kind of odd being here, in this landscape, the Scottish country dance music blaring through the external speakers, though it wasnt blaring and didnt carry all that far.

When he returned inside Uncle John was by the entrance, chatting to a couple of older guys who were both wearing the kilt. Murdo! he said. Where’ve ye been? I was looking for ye!

I was only out a minute!

Ye’re aye disappearing!

No I’m not.

Uncle John put his arm round him and drew him closer. My nephew from Scotland, Murdo.

Hi Murdo, nice to meet you. You know the isle of Skye?

Yeah.

I went over three years ago with my wife and daughter. It was wonderful.

The other man pointed at the kilt he was wearing. This is the Macleod tartan. You know the Macleods?

Yeah.

I’m a Tormod. There’s Torquils and Tormods.

Okay, said Uncle John. He smiled at the two men and led Murdo a few paces off. He spoke quietly: So ye enjoying the music son?

Yeah.

What do ye think of the accordeon player?

Yeah… He’s fine.

Uncle John held him by the elbow. Ssh, he said, I had a wee word with him. Ye’re alright for one. Just wait till the break. Then you go up.

Murdo hardly heard.

Uncle John said, I asked him for ye.

Murdo nodded.

What I’m saying son I asked him for ye. I’m talking about doing one on the accordeon. They’ll be taking a break in a minute then you go up. Uncle John smiled.

No. Thanks but eh no.

It’s fine son ye just go up during the break.

No what it is Uncle John, really, I’m not eh…

Son it’ll be alright, it’s no anything to worry about.

I know, I mean I just eh… I would rather not.

Uncle John gazed at him.

Is that okay?

Of course. No bother at all son, it’s only if ye wanted to. The guy’s happy to oblige. Ye would just go up at the break. Uncle John said, Nobody’s forcing ye!

Thanks.

It was only if ye wanted to.

Thanks Uncle John.

Uncle John patted him on the side of the arm, then returned to the company of the two older men.

Murdo walked along by the rear of the marquee. A row of chairs was lined closeby the canvas with a passageway between it and the second end row. The good thing back here was the shadows. Only the dance area was brightly lit. He might have sat down except it was tricky finding free space. Couples sat together and ye were too close to them. They would think ye were trying to whatever, listen in.

The idea of playing one, it was not on. There was nothing wrong with Uncle John asking, it was just impossible. He was still there with the two old guys, now standing aside to let pass a woman with a laden tray. Ye could see her smiling, so he had made a jokey comment. Uncle John was good. He tried to help and make things happen for people. Maybe Murdo could have played.

He couldnt.

Aunt Maureen was talking to Dad now. More stories. Dad glanced roundabout, probably wondering about Murdo. Where Murdo was sitting was quite shadowy and Dad wouldnt have seen him. So this was him disappeared again! That was Dad, disappeared. The story about “The boy who fell down the pit”. It was one Dad told them when he was wee, him and Eilidh. He would have been four, so Eilidh seven. It was one with a moral to it. Ye were not to wander off or bad things would happen. The wee boy in the story used to wander off by himself and his Mum and Dad were fed up giving him rows about it. One day he went into the forest and fell down a pit. Help me help me! Get me out! Nobody heard his screams. His Mum and Dad thought he was lost and gone forever. He was trapped down there for days and he had to eat worms and spiders and beetles. All the creepy crawlies. He had to eat them all or starve to death. Except not the frog! He would not eat the frog. There was a frog down the bearpit but the boy wouldnay eat it. Frogs come from tadpoles and the boy liked tadpoles.

Murdo knew that was right because he liked tadpoles as well. Eilidh didnt. She was like Oh of course he would eat it. Why wouldnt he? Of course he would! That was Eilidh. He would have to eat it else he would starve to death! If it was France he would eat it. People eat frogs’ legs in France. They nibble them.