A Disaffection (Vintage Classics)

by James Kelman

  Great.

  She was never one for lessons. The boys were better. Mind you she was fine at the primary school; it was after she moved up.

  Ah that’s common, said Pat. Lassies generally start chucking it when they hit adolescence; they just give up, they stop trying.

  Is that right? asked Arthur.

  They tend to, aye. Lessons come second-best to everything, especially boys!

  Is that no the same the other way round but? said Davie.

  Eh, no really; it’s to do with sexuality and the competitive nature of society; how males are aye supposed to win and lassies are aye supposed to come secondbest, and the way the education system colludes entirely. Patrick grinned at Elizabeth and he patted her head: Sure that’s no gonni happen to you my fine young lassie? Sure you’re gonni do all your lessons and beat these lassieds hollow!

  Elizabeth was smiling and looking from Patrick to Davie and to Arthur. And John said, I got the best mark for spelling yesterday.

  Great, said Pat, well done my fine young fellow. What did ye do with that best mark?

  John smiled.

  I dont have any lassies, said Arthur, but I’ll tell you something for nothing, if boys are the ones that do do their lessons, I wouldni like to see the ones that dont! No if my pair are anything to go by! Lazy pair of swines so they are.

  I thought Billy was quite good? said Davie.

  Nah christ. He’s like yours, he was good. Now? Now he’s a lazy … Arthur sniffed without finishing the statement. He winked at Pat and indicating the kids he said quietly, The problem is, with my pair anyway, it’s trying to warn them away from the … junkies … Arthur mouthed the word.

  Davie said to him: You dont want to talk about certain things with the weans and all that.

  Naw I know, replied Arthur, I’m just saying to Paddy, it’s a worry.

  Aye you’re right it’s a worry.

  So you’ve got to talk about it.

  I know that Arthur, I’m no meaning nothing. It’s just because of the … he winked at John and Elizabeth who were both looking at him and at Arthur, both standing beside Patrick.

  Ah but some things are good to talk about in front of weans, said Pat.

  True. But some things areni Paddy, you with me?

  Pat nodded. I know what you’re saying.

  Some things are best left till later on.

  Well … Pat shrugged.

  I dont think you agree with me … Davie smiled and added to Arthur. What do you say on that one Arthur?

  Ach it all depends.

  Aw aye, I know.

  Pat grinned at John and Elizabeth and he said: What do yous two young folks have to say about all this?

  Davie called: Maybe you’d change your mind if you had a couple of your own!

  I hope no, said Pat, but you’re probably right Davie. Notice but, how when we as adults are discussing what’s to happen to weans, the only ones we dont ask are the weans themselves! It’s the same with all exploited groups; they never get asked a question if the question’s to do with them. It’s always the bosses that have the dialogue and then arrive at the decisions for them – well in fact it’s for themselves really but they kid on it’s for the slaves they’re doing it.

  Good point, said Arthur.

  Pat laughed: And when we do ask weans a question it’s aye the most stupidest question in the world. I’ll give you an example: a boy flings a stone at one of his pals and it goes through a window by mistake; out comes the man of the house and gets a grip of the boy. What did you do that for! And if you dont tell me I’m gonni give ye a belt on the jaw! And the poor wee boy canni say a word because the question just doesni have an answer. Do ye know how? Cause it’s no an actual question, it just sounds like one. But it isni.

  Davie chuckled. I’ll give ye a better one … but he paused when he saw that Arthur was signalling him and the clock. And Arthur glanced at Pat.

  Uncle Pat … John said: We went up to your house and you wereni in.

  I know.

  We went to grannie’s.

  Was she in?

  Yes.

  And granpa was in?

  Yes. We got our tea.

  Elizabeth opened the packet of sweeties she had and offered it to Arthur and Davie who both took one.

  Davie sniffed. Heh Paddy I take it we’re abandoning the idea of a continuation? getting the women up I mean, later on?

  Arthur was shaking his head. I doubt if it’s really on, no the night.

  Pat shrugged.

  Should we ask G. D.? said Davie.

  If ye like.

  I’m no so sure, said Arthur.

  I tend to agree with you Arthur; Patrick continued, I dont think a certain lady would be too keen, and I’m just reading between the lines, about the reaction when the certain lady came in and saw the alcoholic beverages.

  And to be honest, said Arthur, I dont think Maureen would be too keen on the idea either.

  Right then; right then … Davie held his two hands aloft. Another time another place eh!

  Aye, said Pat; he grinned at the weans: Yous two dont know what we’ve been talking about because yous werent supposed to. It was a code that grown-up people have so yous mob of children canni hear.

  Davie gestured at the table: Should we tidy it up?

  Dont bother, said Pat, I’ll do it.

  I’ll take my empties though, Arthur said, already gathering the empties together and putting them into a plastic shopping bag he picked up from the other side of the armchair he had been sitting on.

  Gavin came in. He said: Yous going?

  Aye.

  Wise move.

  It looks the best, said Davie, another time another place eh!

  Another time but no necessarily another place. You’re aye welcome here as well ye know Davie.

  Aw aye, I wasni meaning nothing.

  Gavin nodded. Mind your Bo Diddley! he said to Arthur while strolling to his chair and reaching for his cigarettes. Elizabeth came to sit beside him immediately. She squeezed in on the edge and he put his arm round her shoulder.

  John said: Can I switch on the telly dad?

  On ye go, but no too loud.

  We’ll leave yous to it then, said Arthur.

  Pat gestured at the bottle of whisky but Arthur and Davie shook their heads and he nodded.

  So, said Davie, nice seeing ye again Paddy. Dont make it so long the next time eh!

  Naw, said Pat and they shook hands. Then Pat and Arthur shook hands.

  Nice seeing ye, said Arthur.

  Aye Arthur.

  Okay Gavin … said Arthur.

  Maybe see ye on Friday, said Davie, down by I mean, Box D and all that.

  Aye, said Gavin.

  Arthur held the door for Davie and nodded at Pat, and said to Gavin: Maybe give ye a bell the morrow night.

  Gavin nodded. The door closed. The two men could be heard saying cheerio to Nicola and it was a further couple of minutes before the front door finally shut. And Arthur’s footsteps were audible on his way up to the flat above. And that door opened and slammed shut. Gavin and the two kids gazed at the television screen. Pat turned the whisky bottle about on the table, he started reading the label. Then he glanced at his wristwatch.

  It was best they went away, Gavin said suddenly. Otherwise we’d have wound up getting guttered. It was a hell of a big carry-out ye got.

  Pat made no response since it might have been construed as a criticism. In fact what else could it have been. I just thought a halfbottle would go too quickly, with four of us all getting into it I mean … Patrick gazed at his brother. His brother gazed at the television; when he spoke he spoke calmly and quite quietly:

  Davie! he’ll always just sit and guzzle what ye put down in front of him. And he’ll never think of putting his hand in his pocket. That homebrew was all mine and Arthur’s. Arthur’s mainly but some of it was mine. I’ve started making it myself and he gives me a hand. Davie’s really tight. It’s the exact same with the
fags. You might no think so but he is. You’ve got to watch him, take my word for it.

  Patrick nodded.

  He’s a nice enough fellow and that, but … Gavin shrugged. All I’m saying is he’ll sit and guzzle everything ye put out and never think of chipping in with something to help.

  I wasni looking for him to chip in.

  I’m no saying that. What I’m saying is he can catch ye out. I’m no meaning you personally, I mean everybody. Gavin glanced at the drink on the table: Was that a dozen superlager ye bought?

  It was, aye.

  Bloody fortune that must have cost.

  It did, aye, it was a lot. If I had thought about it I wouldni have done it but I never thought about it I just actually done it, it was spur of the moment. I was gonni get a halfbottle like I said but I changed my mind, there and then, when I was getting served by Ebenezer Scrooge. And I just bought the bottle.

  Neither John nor Elizabeth seemed to be listening to anything being said. But weans are devious specimens and nothing could be taken for granted with them. Patrick and Gavin had been using the most matter-of-fact voices but John could have been making sense of it. It was a children’s cartoon show about a Northamerican white hero who was defeating socialist forces of evil who were of alien extraction.

  The weans were engrossed, or seemed to be so. Probably they were in a world of their own.

  Arthur as a nineteen-year-old and all set to travel to the Northern Territories of Canada as a trader in furs and pelts! Yet given that he was so fucking brawny and big insofar as physical individuals were a desirable commodity in relation to the hostile environment and one here thinks of the grizzly bear or fierce snow wolf as opposed to the rascally badman.

  But the fundamental fact of the matter is: that he should have made contact with the secretary’s office to advise them of the leave-taking. Ms Thompson would have been genuinely inconvenienced. And that is not just. You have to be just. If you cannot be just then that is that. And the idea of her getting into bother with the authorities because of one of his daft actions! A simple conversational phonecall to redress matters. He could explain he had been feeling upset both psychologically and physically. And he wasni at all feeling as bad as that now, at this point in time. And what time was that?

  Eh Gavin … okay if I make a phonecall?

  Sure.

  Pat was already onto his feet: I want to phone the school.

  On ye go.

  When he began speaking to Ms Thompson he assumed what he was saying was more or less untrue but then he realised it was the truth: he had not been feeling well; he had been aware that it would prove impossible to make it through the afternoon without having some sort of something or other, a thing that would be not good.

  Her position was simple; if he had advised her at the dinner-hour then she could have made provision. Since he had not advised her she had been unable to make that provision. Apparently the janitor overheard a couple of kids talking during the changeover from first to second period and this had alerted him to the situation. Then as he was heading to the classroom itself to check he had been approached by Mrs Houston who had informed him that Mr Doyle had the beginnings of what looked to her like the flu but whatever it was he had gone home in physical discomfort.

  It’s true, said Patrick, I felt really bad … And while he was speaking he started smiling at the receiver. He was thinking of Alison. That was really sharp of her. He would have to phone to apologise. Plus auld fucking girny gub the janitor, he would have to say sorry to him as well. Fucking auld bastard. Some janitors were good but he was not good. But what was he? He was just a guy with a job he didni like and he couldni help showing it, he just couldni act as if he was enjoying himself. So what. That was no reason to call him an auld bastard. Poor auld bastards, what had they done to deserve such universal acrimony. And what was a bastard anyway but a guy or guyess whose parents had not been married in a socially sanctioned manner? What a load of fucking hegemonic shite.

  Was he going into school tomorrow was the question. No he was yes he was. He was. He would be fine tomorrow. After a good night’s rest. If by any chance he wasnt although that was very unlikely, he would phone, and phone early; but in terms of how he was feeling at this moment in time yes, he would make it tomorrow, so that was that. I apologise for the inconvenience Mirs Thompson.

  It’s not me Mister Doyle it’s only the fact that if we had known we could have made due provision. And with your evening duty this evening on the under-thirteens’ Exam Paper Study Group …

  I’m sorry.

  Which just makes it that wee bit more difficult to rearrange matters you know; it was the same three weeks ago when you missed the Talk on the new Dental Programme.

  Yeh I know, I’m sorry about that.

  It’s just that someone else has to do it for you Mister Doyle.

  After a moment Patrick said, I just as I say felt I needed to get home to my bed as soon as possible. It was that feeling where you start wanting to lie down on pavements. It was just good I had the motor car as well otherwise it would’ve been terrible having to wait for a bus. I would’ve been able to take a taxi right enough. Patrick frowned at the receiver, which was not Mirs Thompson. When he replaced it his nephew was standing next to him. Pat winked at him.

  Uncle Pat …

  Aye John?

  Can I show you a picture I did in school?

  Aye, course … He took John’s hand and they went into the living room. The television volume was still down fairly low and wee Elizabeth looked as though she was falling asleep, still squeezed in beside Gavin. The whole house was warm and cosy. If he liked he could just sit down and remain for as long as he wanted, except not forever.

  The smell of food now wafted ben from the kitchenette. Nicola was finishing off the meal which Gavin had prepared earlier on. Patrick was staying to eat. He enjoyed eating with them; they were good at doing food and while he was sitting pretending to be watching a television programme for adults about English country villages he was sniffing away at this aroma of casseroled ox liver. Mirs Houston might be a vegetarian but that was her problem, she probably only did it in a silly attempt to offset the dangers of lung cancer. Henceforth, whenever he was to see that woman in the staffroom he would just march up in the most straightfoward of manners and say

  what would he say though? He could think of nothing at all. His mind was devoid of thought; there was nothing that he was thinking of that there was nothing that he was thinking of; nothing that his mind was in control of but that nothing that his mind was in control of – the country upper-class english squire is chatting to this upper-class english woman about the impending show of

  but his mind is never in control. No one’s mind is in control; that is not necessarily a function of the mind, to be in control, not necessarily.

  Patrick did not want children of his own, not necessarily. He loved John and Elizabeth. But that did not give him the desire to have some of his own. Okay if he happened to be involved with a woman who was desperate to have a couple then he would obviously have to consider the matter very seriously indeed, but if left to his own devices no, no. And tie that in with the lurking wish to become vegetarian. How does it get tied in but. Fair enough; just perhaps that there are incredibly fucking massive feeding problems in the world at this actual moment in the movement of things insofar as toty wee weans are dying of starvation so that if meat-eaters of the wealthy West all stopped and cut out such obscene extravaganzas like feeding herds of animals on stuff that would stop these weans, that would halt

  No more meat.

  Horrendous.

  And yet it was not possible to say such a thing to Gavin and Nicola – maybe Nicola but not Gavin. Gavin would just tell you to fuck off. Quite right and all. No it’s not. But you could speak to Nicola. Whereas you couldnt speak to him. Nicola would listen. She had some respect for Patrick’s viewpoint whereas his brother didni, not really. But fuck sake did he have any respect for Gavin’s vie
wpoint!

  Is that the problem. No. That is not the problem. Whither it is nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and the arrows. Shakespeare. What can we say of him. Well, here you have a chap who is an actor turned playwright. Okay? Fine. Cheerio.

  One sits and one says nothing. The brother and the niece and the nephew, whose attention seems concentrated on the televised happenings in the land of fantasy. An old pal and former colleague of his believed the television was a device for people being watched instead of people watching; in other words while the poor old flagellants were gazing upon the magical events from the world of stage and screen there was an army of security folk taking notes on what was what in the world of the British living room. Patrick unscrewed the bottle and poured himself a minuscule whisky. That was why he wanted into computers before it was too late. He glanced at Gavin but Gavin was already shaking his head in anticipation of the offer. Patrick nodded. The whisky had a slightly sickening quality about it which could mean only one thing; that he had drunk a fair amount of the stuff yet remained totally sober, a sobersides, an old sobersides of a chap. If intoxicated the whisky would have tasted fine but in this condition it tasted only of a retchingness. A quick sip of super to drown it out. And that would do it. He pushed the drinks away. Nothing further. And maybe after the good and plentiful meal he would be fine for driving home; to be on the safe side he could sit on for an extra hour or so, just yapping maybe.

  Who with.

  Nicola.

  It is fucking distinctly funny peculiar and most odd how come one’s brother can sit with you and say fuck all. I mean it is absolutely fucking the dregs. What can be said about it. Fuck all. What did Wittgenstein have to say on the subject. Who wants to know. Me. Him and these brothers of his. In the name of the holies. One thing was for fucking definite: he couldni remain here forever. He needed his own wee house. He needed his own wee house and his own wee pair of pipes. Ye joking! Without these pipes his fucking life has yet to begin, it has yet to even begin.

  Without his pair of pipes.

  Patrick rose from the dining chair he had been sitting on throughout the afternoon and he stepped across to the armchair opposite Gavin, and he plonked himself down on it and he gave a mammoth grin at the kids, whose visual space he now occupied to about 15° or so. He had thought of something to say. He stuck each forefinger into either corner of his mouth and pulled apart his lips in an eye-catching manner. He grinned. Heh yous two kids, he said, I want to tell ye a story. It’s about a pair of magical pipes. I was out walking about a week ago exactly from today and guess what I found, a pair of magical pipes.