Fallow

by Daniel Shand

  ‘Shall we head down to Balloch again? We can try and get a train in the morning,’ said Mikey.

  I thought about the little I knew of the geography. It would be about the same amount of walking again to reach the town.

  ‘I can’t face it,’ I admitted. ‘Why don’t we hole up here for the night, try the walk in the morning?’

  ‘Hm,’ he said, looking around. ‘Just sleep on the beach like?’

  ‘Well, no, we could find a spot.’

  Mikey looked away from me.

  ‘Please?’ I asked.

  He sighed and said, ‘All right.’

  We walked down the shore for a bit. The breeze coming off the water was mild but it went right through me, chilling me to the bowel. I hunched my shoulders as we went, burrowing my hands deep into my pockets. Mikey strode on in only his tattered robes, appearing not to notice the cold.

  In time we came to cluster of lodges a few feet from the water. There was a rack for canoes and a couple of motors parked outside.

  ‘Here we go,’ I said, hopefully.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Looks like one of them’s empty. That’d do for the night.’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘We’re desperate. No one’s going to get hurt.’

  ‘I think we should keep going.’

  ‘Let’s just see, eh?’ I said.

  We crept up from the beach and went low past the windows of the inhabited cabins so as not to be seen. I peered into the window of the dark cabin, seeing furniture covered with sheets through the blinds.

  ‘It’s deserted,’ I said. ‘Everything’s put away.’

  I looked back. Mikey was shaking his head.

  ‘It’s too risky. We can’t be drawing attention to ourselves.’

  I was already running with the idea though. A warm bed for the night, maybe a bit of food lying about. Oh aye. That’d do. I waddled over to the nearest cabin and grabbed the shovel that was leaning against it. Up close I could hear a television running inside. We’d need to be quiet.

  Our cabin had a second door around the back. I checked no one was watching and jammed the blade of the shovel into the jamb, twisting and leaning. It opened with a small cracking sound.

  ‘There we go,’ I said.

  We went inside, checking each room for occupants. Nothing. Empty.

  ‘I’m going to see if there’s food,’ I said, leaving Mikey standing in the living room.

  The kitchen cupboards were close to bare but I found a few tins of beans and soup and things and a half-full bottle of whisky. It wasn’t much but it would keep us going. I set myself to work straight away, opening tins and firing up a few saucepans on the hob, selecting us a tin each of ravioli, chicken chunks in cream and Heinz tomato soup. Helping myself to a tumbler of whisky, I leaned on the bunker. The first few sips went to my head without warning.

  Mikey was stood in the doorway.

  ‘We’ve done this before,’ he said.

  ‘Have a whisky,’ I said.

  ‘This is just like the last place, all over again.’

  I held my hands up. ‘We’re not hurting anyone. One night and we’ll be gone. What’s a few tins of fucken pasta to the rich bastards that own these places?’

  Mikey shook his head.

  We had our whiskies and bowls of food through in the living room, on our laps. I had never enjoyed a meal more. Mikey downed his whisky but only picked at his food, pushing the lumps of ravioli around the bowl.

  After tea we kept up with the drinking. I dug out a second bottle from a cabinet in the corner of the living room. As I inspected the bottle I realised someone was looking in the window.

  ‘Mikey,’ I said. ‘There’s a man.’

  He got up from the couch and looked out too. The man waved. He was an older guy, a hillwalkery look about him, all proper and put-together. I’d seen his type before. I felt like maybe I’d seen him before.

  ‘Well,’ Mikey said, ‘here we go.’

  He ducked out into the hall and opened our front door. I followed, lingering at his shoulder.

  ‘Evening,’ said the man, squinting at us, like he was looking into the sun.

  ‘Evening,’ we said.

  ‘Just thought I’d pop over and introduce myself. We’re staying in the Duke of Argyll lodge, just over there.’ He held his arm out to the furthest cabin.

  ‘Oh,’ said Mikey. ‘Right.’

  ‘Me and the wife and kids,’ squinted the man.

  ‘Well,’ said Mikey.

  The man shook his head. ‘Sorry. Where are my manners? John Bun,’ he said, shaking Mikey’s hand.

  ‘Hiya John,’ said Mikey.

  John Bun went on squinting for a few moments before realising the introduction wouldn’t be returned.

  ‘It’s a fine spot,’ he said.

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘We didn’t realise this cabin was booked. The agent said it was empty.’

  ‘We only just arrived.’

  ‘Oh. Very good.’

  John Bun looked at the sky. We looked at him.

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I’m just off to Luss with the family, let me know if you need anything picked up.’

  ‘Should be fine,’ said Mikey.

  ‘Righto,’ said John Bun, backing away from the cabin, holding his palm aloft. ‘See you later.’

  ‘What a goon,’ I said as Mikey swung the door shut. I scoffed. ‘John Bun.’

  ‘Mm,’ said Mikey.

  I poured us each a whisky from the new bottle and we settled down. We drank mostly in silence until we’d made a dent in that second bottle. The night dragged on and midnight took a long time coming. I knew Mikey would be as drunk as me, if not worse. He was lying on the opposite couch, his arms tightly crossed, brooding. The windows were full of night.

  ‘What’ll you do?’ I asked. ‘When we get back.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ I said.

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘I just know it’ll be fine. I’ve arranged something.’

  He shuffled himself higher up on the couch. ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Well – and now don’t get pissed off about this – but I spoke to Mum the other day. I called her up from the village.’

  He opened his mouth and looked at the roof. ‘You phoned Mum?’

  ‘I spoke to Mum. I made some arrangements for us, for when we get back.’

  He put his glass down on the carpet, pushed himself fully upright. ‘You spoke to Mum. Our mum?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘You said when we left that we couldn’t contact anyone while we were gone. You said they’d be tapping us and monitoring us and if we contacted anyone that’d be the end of it.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Aye, you did.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I can’t fucken believe you,’ he said, licking his lips. I could see he was pushing his tongue against his bottom teeth in anger.

  ‘Don’t worry mate. I’ve got it all sorted. I said that I would arrange everything with them social workers, that I’d tell them it was all my idea and it was just a wee holiday and it was nothing to get so excited about.’

  Mikey’s face was black. He did not respond.

  ‘So it’s all sorted,’ I confirmed, sipping my whisky.

  He nodded and then bent forward to pick up his glass. He weighed it in his palm and then hurled it against the wall of the cabin where it exploded into a firework of shards.

  ‘Christ!’ I shouted but he was already on his feet, across the floor towards me. He held me down by the chest and shook me and growled, baring his teeth.

  ‘You do not fucken speak to my mum about me, all right?’

  ‘Aye,’ I whimpered. ‘Aye of course.’

  ‘You do not speak to anyone about me. You know nothing about me.’

  The front of my shirt was balled up in his fists and he was pressing his knuckles into my ribs and weighing down on me and I forgot how m
uch taller he was.

  ‘Nothing gives you the right to talk about me,’ he spat.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, my hands up, surrendering. ‘I was just trying to do my be…’

  He stood up quickly, throwing me away from him. ‘Don’t give me that doing-your-best shite. You don’t care about me. You don’t give two fucks about me, Paul. All you care about is your own fucken skin.’

  I didn’t like that. I would take the abuse if it made him feel better but I wouldn’t just sit there while he questioned my intentions.

  I stood up to meet him. The cabin was silent, just two brothers and their loud breathing.

  ‘All I care about’s my own skin?’ I asked.

  ‘Aye. Your own skin,’ he sneered.

  ‘How fucken dare you? How fucken dare you,’ I said. ‘You don’t know the things I’ve gone through for you. Fair enough you got the jail, but I was out here, alone. I had to deal with Mum’s shite, I had to deal with your dad fucking off. I had to deal with the looks on the faces of folk who knew I was related to something like you.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Poor wee thing,’ he said, moving around me. We were circling each other, kicking furniture out of the way. The broken glass shone in the carpet. ‘So some folk looked at you funny? Boo fucken hoo. I got the fucken jail,’ he said, holding the chest of his robes in his fist.

  ‘Aye all right,’ I said. ‘D’you want a fucken medal for it? I didn’t have a single friend. I was on my own.’

  ‘That was your doing. It’s not anyone else’s fault that you’re a creep,’ he said, his nose wrinkling at that final word.

  ‘Nobody wants to be pals with a beast’s brother,’ I said.

  Mikey stared at me. He looked right into and through me and his eyelashes were thick and dark and he stared at me and then put his palm against his cheek. He laughed.

  ‘You fucken believe it, don’t you?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘All these years I thought you were lying. I don’t know if that’s better or worse.’

  ‘What’re you on about?’

  He took a step forward, cocked his head. He rubbed his lips with a finger. ‘I didn’t kill anybody, Paul.’

  ‘Fuck off Mikey,’ I snorted. ‘You’re not in court anymore.’

  He laughed again. ‘I just can’t believe you believe it. I did not kill that lassie.’

  I felt myself heating up, I felt my blood kicking in. Heat flowed through me, alcohol and rage pumping up and down my body. I couldn’t speak.

  ‘It was you,’ he said. ‘You killed her.’

  A black spot appeared in front of me, obscuring Mikey. ‘I didn’t,’ I heard myself say.

  ‘You did. You fucken strangled her with your own hands. You made her go with us into the woods and you wouldn’t let her get away and you put her on the floor and put your hands on her neck. You told me it was just a game and I knew it was wrong but you were my big fucken brother.’

  His voice cracked. I couldn’t see him from the pulsating black orb in the middle of my vision.

  He coughed. ‘I didn’t know what was happening. You said it was a game and then the police came round the house and you said that was a game too and you told me everything to say cause you were my big fucken brother and I trusted you and all I ever wanted was for you to be my pal.’

  There was my voice. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ it said.

  ‘You were my big brother,’ said Mikey, behind the spot.

  ‘I still am,’ said my voice.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘You’re not.’

  And then I rushed him, shouldering him in the gut and pushing him backwards over the couch to the floor behind. I was on him like a dog and I couldn’t see a fucken thing.

  He was a liar. He was trying to save his own neck and I was going to show him what happened to liars.

  Something connected hard with my temple and I toppled off him. Mikey’s fist. I fell sideways and he shook me loose and I was crawling up the carpet to him. I took a boot to the nose but I kept going.

  ‘Fuck off,’ he screamed.

  ‘You’re a liar,’ I said.

  We had each other by the head, we were rolling around, trying to jab digs into the soft parts of each other’s faces. We were tense and jabbing, digging, punching, but too close to one another to get any sort of purchase on our hits.

  Mikey got his knee under my chest and flicked me off him and I sprawled across the floor of the cabin. The black spot that hung in my eyes vibrated and grew and I grunted and got myself over him again. My fingers wrapped themselves around his throat.

  ‘You’re a fucken liar,’ I heard myself say.

  I felt the heat coming from his neck, felt the tubes and long muscles squirm beneath my fingers. He was scratching my arms, clawing for my face, but I was too quick for him, too strong. I squeezed with all my might, I pressed down with all my weight.

  He was making sounds like a frightened bird, squawking and clucking.

  ‘This is what happens,’ I grunted, ‘when you try and beat me.’

  And then the black spot removed itself with a blink and Mikey was gone and the wee lassie was peering back at me. The heat in her neck was suddenly scalding and I released my fingers as if burned. She didn’t move. She looked at me.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I thought you were my brother.’

  ‘No,’ she said, coughing a little. ‘I’m not.’

  I scrambled over to her and touched her very gently on the neck. I asked her if it hurt, if I had hurt her.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Thank God,’ I said.

  Eyes like plates, hair splayed across the carpet. ‘Why would you want to do that to your brother?’

  ‘He was saying… he was saying it was me that killed you.’

  She smiled. ‘It was though, wasn’t it Paul?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I didn’t. It wasn’t me.’

  ‘But it was, Paul. Try to remember. Try to remember what you did to me.’

  I pushed her away and crabbed myself across the floor from her. She rolled onto her front and crawled towards me.

  ‘Remember? Remember how your teacher made you feel? Remember the little worm of anger that burrowed through your insides, telling you to pass that on?’

  She was getting closer to me and I had my back against the wall.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘It wasn’t like that. It was an accident. I didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘It wasn’t an accident. You enjoyed it. You were teaching me a lesson.’

  I could remember it. I could remember my hands around her neck. My chest was heaving and dry, unable to produce words.

  ‘It’s going to be me and you,’ she told me. ‘Forever.’

  I closed my eyes and said, ‘I’m sorry,’ over and over again. I wanted her to know how sorry I was, for everything. How I would take it all back if I had the chance.

  When I opened my eyes she was gone. The room was dark. Mikey was standing over me, rubbing his neck. There was nothing in his face, nothing at all.

  ‘She was here,’ I choked.

  ‘Who was?’

  ‘The wee lassie. She spoke to me again.’ I crawled over to him and held him by the bottom of his robes, pulling myself up. ‘Mikey, it was me. I remember.’

  ‘I know it was.’

  ‘What am I going to do?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  I slumped down, letting go of him. ‘Jesus.’

  The feeling was something crawling beneath my skin, flies hatching in my hair. I wanted to scratch myself all over. The others, Duncan and that, they were a different story. They were people that tried to get in our way, asking for it, I could deal with them.

  But the wee lassie.

  I knew she’d be waiting for me the rest of my life. I knew I would see her in crowds, I knew she would slip into my bed at night, shivering beside me. What could I do? Where could I go, when she
would always be there?

  ‘I’m losing it, man,’ I told Mikey. ‘You have to help me. We need to stick together. If I don’t have you I don’t know what I’ll do.’

  He poured us a glass of whisky each and mine rattled against my teeth as I tried to drink.

  ‘Maybe we should go to bed,’ said Mikey.

  ‘I won’t sleep.’

  ‘I don’t know then,’ he said.

  I rolled the glass around in my hand and then put my head against the wall. ‘You were in there for ten years.’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Was it bad?’

  ‘It was pretty bad.’

  ‘Oh God,’ I said. ‘Oh Jesus Christ.’

  We sat like that for a while, me on the floor by the wall, Mikey leaning on the back of the couch. We didn’t look at each other. We drank our drinks and sat and in my head I was doing somersaults, just to keep from losing my mind.

  Maybe, I thought, just maybe, I could make it all right. We would go home in the morning, I would settle everything out with the social workers, with the police, tell them it was my idea to take Mikey away and not tell them exactly the reason why I didn’t want him speaking to anyone, especially a psychologist, but tell them it was because I was worried about him.

  Aye, they’d have to understand that, wouldn’t they?

  And then once all that was sorted I would change myself. I would become dedicated to goodness, volunteering, being kind to our mum, helping old ladies with their shopping. All the good stuff – I would do it all. Maybe if the wee lassie could see that, how much goodness I could conjure in myself, maybe then she would leave me alone.

  I would be quiet, I would be like a monk, I would cause no trouble and I would turn the other cheek. Forever. Every day. I would show my penance to the world and I would die alone as an act of contrition. I would do anything Mikey asked of me.

  Maybe if I did all those things I could make it right again.

  Aye, I thought. Maybe.

  And then through our window came the brick.

  18

  All caution gone from us, we crowded against the fangs of glass at the broken window. Standing on the grass outside was a band of people, gripping torches like stubby swords in their fists, men and women alike, jeering at the sight of us.