Dirt Road

by James Kelman

  Even playing sometimes ye could see a girl’s face, if she was looking at ye. Then it was like what are ye going to do? If she waits behind. Just go outside with her, or what? Other guys did, they said they did and had sex and all that. So they said, some of them. If ye believed them. Some of them ye did. Other ones ye didnay, just the usual crap boasting shit.

  Murdo hardly talked after a gig anyway. Sometimes he forgot where he was. Usually he was tired. People maybe were wanting to chat. He just nodded as if he was listening but most times he wasnt. He couldnt concentrate; the conversation going on and on. Sometimes he needed to get away, outside the actual venue. A fiddler in the band smoked hash and he would be somewhere. Murdo just walked round the building. One time he did it and the venue was a church hall. When he went round the back it was a graveyard and the fiddler was there smoking and jumped out his skin. Telling the guys later he called Murdo Count Dracula! Standing there having a smoke and out he comes like up from a coffin.

  But it was funny. Ye got a laugh in bands. Murdo missed it, he missed playing, missed the company, having a laugh with the guys.

  He kept around the edge of the area. Much of the space was empty now, cleared of tents and stalls. The marquee was still closed.

  He didnt want to go in until the band started. People would be sitting about. Then it was Oh there’s Murdo, and saying hullo and all that, Oh you’re Murdo, hullo. Hullo back.

  It was okay if it was Aunt Maureen, he could speak to her. Uncle John too. Dad would want to know what he had been up to and where had he been? Ye disappeared again? I didnay disappear Dad I just went a walk. People go walks. I was just walking, just like whatever, what does it matter.

  *

  Inside the marquee the tables had been shifted to accommodate the dancing and two rigged together as a sandwich and refreshments bar. Beer was available as well as soft drinks. It wasnt as busy as people expected but it was still okay and a cheery atmosphere. Dad and Murdo sat with Aunt Maureen and Uncle John who had managed to get a table down the far side. Dad had given Murdo another twenty dollars which made $90 all in. He still hadnt spent anything.

  The musicians came from someplace up near Canada. They played ordinary Scottish-style country dance stuff but it was lively and brought people onto the floor, and ye had to respect that. They were playing a medley of reels when friends of Aunt Maureen and Uncle John stopped to say hullo, and pulled over chairs to sit with them. They hadnt been at the pot-luck night. The conversation was to do with how things were at the Gathering, not as good as years gone past and how things had changed. They were talking about traditional country dancing. Uncle John made a comment about the dancers that made them smile. He called to Murdo: The Hielan Mishmash son eh!

  Murdo grinned.

  Tell us what it is?

  Eh…

  Murdo’s a musician, said Uncle John. Accordeon son eh?

  People gazed at him. Aunt Maureen was smiling. Dad smiled too.

  You play accordeon? asked a man.

  Yeah.

  The Hielan Mishmash! Uncle John chuckled.

  Murdo said, It’s just where people dance but they dont know what they’re dancing and just like clump about. He shrugged and drank a mouthful of apple juice. They were waiting for him to say more but what else was there?

  That was Dad. Dad must have told Uncle John about it. The Hielan Mishmash was the name the guys gave country dancing back home when people just clumped about the floor. Take your partners for the Hielan Mishmash! They didnt know the steps and just pushed, pulled and twirled roundabout with plenty of hooching, hand-clapping and feet-stamping. Why not? Who cares if it is a reel, a jig, a waltz, a two-step or a polka, or a jive, if ye were there for a good time. It wasnt school.

  People could be snobbish about Scottish country dancing and that included musicians. Ye had to play this, that and the next thing and ye could only do it in a certain way. Up to a point okay but ye needed room for yer own take. Even traditional stuff. If something was necessary ye did it. It was good when ye heard a tune ye knew and it turned into something else; it started from there and ended there, but where did it go in between! That was the fun, that was exciting.

  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 J
ohn 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.

  Are the frogs wearing them? said Murdo.

  Good question, said Dad who told it to Mum. Are the frogs wearing their legs when people nibble them?

  The boy didnt eat the frog because the frog was his pal, and nobody would eat their pal! If he had he would never have got out the bear pit. Because that was how he escaped. He climbed on the frog’s back and out they hopped. It was a good story. Dad used to tell them. Even if he gave ye a row; after the row was over and ye were getting put to bed he sat down with ye and told ye a story, Murdo and Eilidh, just the two of ye there and him sitting, and quiet, ha ha, that was Dad.

  Last song before the break: A Dashing White Sergeant. Some knew the steps but most didnt. Ye could learn if ye wanted. The web was full of these instruction videos. But who cares? Ye want to relax and not have to go and do stuff.

  What was interesting here was how the fiddle took the lead and that gave it an American feel. Murdo thought so. But it might just have been hearing the fiddle, thinking of Chess Hopkins – it wasnay Macpherson played the fiddle on “Macpherson’s Farewell”, it was him. The fiddler here was nowhere even close to Chess Hopkins.

  But so what, if he was doing his best? Maybe he was.

  There was a sadness in music. Even if it was cheery, or supposed to be cheery, ye still heard it. Even The Dashing White Sergeant.

  *

  During the break he walked about. He was back at the table when the band began a medley they introduced as “The Happy Hoedown”. There was a cheer and an immediate rush for the floor when people heard the opening tune. They grabbed partners, whooping and punching the air.

  A man had been talking to Aunt Maureen and Dad and they were straining to hear what each other was saying. Murdo wasnt trying to listen. He couldnt hear anyway. The man had a beer in one hand and kept giving angry looks at the band. But it wasnt the band’s fault. Dad and Aunt Maureen seemed to agree with the man but surely if people wanted a conversation they should have shifted to the back of the marquee? Uncle John was away doing that, sitting with a couple of men at the side, but that was them. Most people wanted to dance. They were there for a good time. What was wrong with that?

  A woman was heading towards Dad, coming straight towards him. There was no mistaking this; stretching out her right hand, her forefinger pulling and beckoning him to come to her. Murdo hadnt seen her before. Aunt Maureen called to her: Hi Ruthie!

  The woman seemed not to see Aunt Maureen and was wagging her finger at Dad like she was giving him a row. It was quite, in a way, comical, seeing Dad like this. But weird. When she took both his hands and yanked him up off the chair he allowed it. He smiled at Murdo and Aunt Maureen like Oh I’m helpless, I’m helpless. Then he was on the floor with her and standing, they were looking for a gap, then they were dancing. Dad. Dancing.

  Murdo sipped his juice and watched how he was doing it. He knew a few of the steps. The woman was good. She looked to be leading Dad, holding his waist and guiding him through bits. They stayed on the floor for the next dance too.

  That was something, Dad, imagine Dad.

  One tune the band played was the “Ballad of Glencoe”. Murdo could have grabbed the accordeon for that. He could sing it too:

  Oh cruel was the snow

  that sweeps Glencoe

  and covers the grave o’ Donald

  It was a waltz. Dad was still there with the woman. Aunt Maureen was gazing at dancers too. There was a spare seat next to her. Murdo moved onto it. Hi Aunt Maureen.

  Well hi Murdo you enjoying yourself?

  Yeah.

  It’s nice.

  Yeah.

  And he was enjoying himself. Although nothing was going to happen. He knew that. It didnt matter. Being here was great and just seeing everything, how everything was. Okay if he had had a pal they would have had a laugh, maybe chatted to a couple of girls or whatever.

  Dad and the woman danced
past. Aunt Maureen smiled seeing them. Ruthie Lawrence, she said.

  Later Aunt Maureen was still smiling. It was another tune by then. Just that way she was looking at the people on the floor, that smile, smiling to see them. Murdo could have drawn her, if he had had a pen or a pencil, to try and get how she was looking, this way she was watching the dancers like even she wasnt watching them at all but over the tops of their heads, and her eyes and just below the lines there, that was the lines from smiling, she did smile, worrying too. She didnt dress up much but tonight she had.

  And this necklace she was wearing. She had on this necklace and it was like sparkling, really sparkling. Murdo hadnt seen it before. Maybe she hadnt worn it before. Not during the day anyway. Definitely not. Maybe it was diamonds? It could have been. Murdo leaned to her. Aunt Maureen, he said, that’s a brilliant necklace.

  She squinted round at him.

  It’s really…it’s just, it’s really really nice.

  He still gives the presents Murdo, he still manages to do that. Aunt Maureen smiled, fingering the necklace.

  Do ye fancy a dance? he said.

  Huh? You want to son?

  Please, yeah, if eh…

  I dont mind. Aunt Maureen stood to her feet carefully.

  That’s great, he said. She put one hand out to him and he held it, walking with her onto the floor. Ye’re looking great, he said, I think ye’re just…

  Aunt Maureen frowned.

  No, he said.

  Oh yeah you can flatter huh! It’s a family trait I reckon.

  Murdo laughed. When they were on the floor they stood by the edge. He put his hands to Aunt Maureen’s upper arms. She glanced at the other dancers. What is this one? she asked.

  I think it’s a jig.

  Huh, I thought it was too.

  Aunt Maureen I’ve got to say, I’m a hopeless dancer.

  She nodded. We’ll try a two-step Murdo, a fast one. One two shuffle, one two shuffle but kind of fast. You wont fall down. Jigs is kind of tricky.

  She adjusted his hands and waited, looking to see a space; they set off. Aunt Maureen slowed to a stop. Now Murdo you’re going backwards, she said, dont you go backwards: you got to lead me; you are the man here.