by James Kelman
What?
What! he said.
I looked at Gerry but he didnay seem even to have heard.
Sorry, I said and put the cigarette back in the packet.
But now he kept on and on with really daft patter. Stupid nonsense no worth repeating, except it could have got embarrassing. I was his target and I dont know why. Even like it was personal, he was trying to give me a showing up in front of Gerry. How come? I had never seen the guy afore in all my life. He was acting like a huffy wee boy. This was a guy in his thirties. All the time he was doing it he was banging about with the binliners and I just really wanted to get away. I thought Gerry would say something but he only listened. He looked totally fed up. Then he said, Hey Calum, Ivan wants ye to give him a cigarette.
Oh Calum! The guy actually shouted.
Yeah, that’s his name.
Now Ivan Johnson stepped right in front of me and I thought he might punch me. I was ready for it. I wasnay scared of him except I was worried he might grab something or if he had a knife maybe. He looked right into my face: Who the hell do you think you are?
What, I said, I dont know what ye’re talking about. I’m only here a message.
Oh! A message!
A message for Gerry, aye.
Oh a message for Gerry. Indeed, yes.
I looked for Gerry to say something then but he didnay, he just stood there.
Ye just march into somebody’s house! You think you have the right just to do that! You think I’m going to stand here and let you do that! What do you think, that you’re going to walk over the top of me! Is that what you think?
What?
What! Yes, indeed. The guy laughed.
Gerry, I said, what is this?
Gerry shook his head.
Ivan Johnson laughed. Gerry Gerry Gerry! He laughed again and did a wee dance shouting, Gerry Gerry Gerry, Gerry Gerry Gerry.
Gerry said, For christ sake Ivan. Just leave him.
I’m not touching him.
Gerry sighed. Calum, give him a cigarette.
I took out the packet and offered him one. But he didnay take it, only stared at it. He scratched his head and stared at me, like he had hit a blank spot in his memory; how come I was standing there, he couldnay remember. Gerry’s mobile rang and he went to the window to answer it, staring out. The artist guy smiled at me, not a good smile. I am Ivan Johnson, he said, dont you ever forget that. He tapped himself on the chest pointing to his name on his T-shirt.
I dont know anything about this, I said, I’m sorry. I dont know . . .
I know who you are.
What?
Yes, what.
What d’ye mean?
Now he took the cigarette and waited with it in his mouth like I was to light it for him. I passed him the lighter to do it himself. He did but kept the lighter. He stuck it in his pocket and turned his back on me. It was even funny. I held out my hand for it but he ignored me. Give us the lighter? I said.
He didnt reply.
That’s my lighter.
He started opening another binliner. It was one of these things where all ye can do is look. It would have been funny except it wasnt. It was actually terrible. Really, it was. How come? I dont know, except it was. I couldnay have explained how terrible it was, or even why it was. Maybe a bad dream. Ye wondered if it was really happening.
Gerry was standing over by the window alcove, phone in hand. He called, That’s Mac arriving in the street with the van.
Oh goody, said Ivan Johnson.
Gerry ignored him and started on another phone call, staring out the window.
I was glad he was sarcastic about Mac. It meant it wasnay just me that was getting it. Mac was Gerry’s pal. If Ivan Johnson was doing it to him he would do it to anybody, so it was like nothing to do with the person he was attacking, it was just him and his twisted stupidity. He started giving me weird looks. Even how he done it was weird, like it was behind my back and I couldnay see him, except it was right in front of my face so of course I could see him. And he did daft things with the cigarette he was smoking. If ye were watching it would have been comical but no when it was happening to ye. I wanted to leave but I needed Gerry to say about the delivery and if it was all okay and everything about it, and he wasnt doing that. He was supposed to sign for it too but that wouldnt matter because it was me to him direct.
Who the hell was Ivan Johnson? How come Gerry was here helping him? I couldnt remember seeing him before. I would have if he had been involved with Gerry politically. He was carrying stuff to the door now and looking at me as if I was supposed to help. I might have if he hadnay been so hostile. Then he was babbling. What was he babbling about? He directed it to Gerry but it was meant for me, to do with the name Calum. Scotland the brave and blood and soil patriots; bonnie Prince Charlie. His ancestors werent Scottish. His name was Ivan and I was prejudiced or something. Racists in his own house. It was mixed-up stuff; not worth repeating. He was trying to bring me down, using big names from history and showing off like he was well educated and I wasnt.
I couldnay have cared less what he thought. It was the first time I had seen him and with a bit of luck the last. He didnay know me at all. How come Gerry ever helped him out? I dont know. I just wanted him to check the stationery and I was off.
The buzzer sounded. Gerry held the phone away from his ear and said to Ivan Johnson, That’s Mac at the foot of the stairs.
D’ye expect me to fly down the stairs and let him in!
It’s you that’s flitting.
So?
Gerry shook his head and went back to the phone conversation. But ye could see the guy was angry, staring daggers at Gerry. Gerry didnay notice, leaning with his back against the window alcove. The buzzer sounded again. I said to Gerry, Will I go down?
Yeah Calum thanks.
Oh yes, just take your orders. Ivan Johnson shook his head. You’re such a nice little boy!
What? Cheeky bastard that he was, I would have told him to fuck off, getting at me, how come he was getting at me!
Mac was right down at the foot of the close. Ivan Johnson could have opened the security door from the buzzer but hadnt bothered. He was surprised to see me. Hoh Calum! How ye doing? He had two plastic bags in each hand. A big carry-out; cans of beer, a couple of bottles of wine and another bottle, maybe whisky. Plus nuts and crisps and stuff. He nodded at it. This is for when we finish the flitting. Ye giving us a hand?
Eh naw, I wasnay eh . . .
Friday! Ye’re playing football.
Supposed to be.
Mac gave me a bag of beer to carry up the stairs. I wanted to ask him about Ivan Johnson. Instead I told him about the stationery. So far I hadnt had a chance to tell Gerry about it. So far he hadnt even asked. He hadnt even looked inside the bags.
Maybe ye can pick up the rest of it yourself tomorrow morning, I said.
Yeah, said Mac.
I would do it myself except I’ll be on the machines.
Okay.
Or if ye talk the owners into having it delivered.
No bother, said Mac.
The owners were funny about deliveries. For wee deliveries I was expected to take a bus. Usually if the job was political they gave it priority and might let me take their own car if it was urgent. But they didnt like people driving it. A twenty-five-year-old Volvo Estate. A great old car. I would have asked my Dad for a loan of his except I didnt think it was right to ask it for somebody else’s business.
Before we reached the wooden staircase to the attic Mac said, So ye’ve met Ivan?
Ehhh . . . I was going to say something else but why bother.
Is he been giving ye a hard time? said Mac.
I shrugged.
Dont worry about it. Ye might say he’s got problems. He’s an old comrade. Hey, when’s kick-off?
Half seven, I’m supposed to be there for seven.
Dont hang about here then! Mac began whistling and moved on up the stairs. I followed. There was no need to stay. If
Gerry wanted me for anything he would say, maybe, maybe he would. With Mac there maybe he wouldnt; probably he wouldnt. Unless if I helped with the flitting but if so it had to be soon. I could give a help, if I wanted to. Gerry wouldnay have asked, not directly.
He was helping Ivan Johnson stack the stuff by the outside door. The flitting hadnay been scheduled for this evening but now it had to be because there was some sort of problem. This didnt surprise me if it was Ivan Johnson. According to Mac the more serious problem was the van itself. The clutch seemed about to pack in. With a bit of luck we’ll not have to shove it, he said.
Four of us, said Gerry, we’ll manage!
Mac glanced at me. Three. Calum’s got his five-a-sides, eh Calum?
Yeah well, supposed to be.
Aw. Gerry nodded.
I’ll be fine to help but if ye need a hand.
That’s okay, said Gerry.
It’s okay I mean if ye do.
Ivan Johnson laughed, for whatever reason; more like a snigger. Gerry looked across at him and shook his head. Mac said, The van’ll be fine Calum you go and get a game of football.
Listen to goody-two-shoes, said Ivan Johnson.
That was exactly what he said. It was the most stupid crap shite of a thing to say. About Mac too, imagine saying it about him. Just weird. Ye might have laughed. I didnt. Gerry smiled. Mac did too and gave him a wee salute. Just as well Mac reacted the way he did. He was a heavy guy and went ahead with anybody. Ye heard stories about Mac. Even the polis. He had been lifted a few times for street affray and breach. One time he got done for assaulting a polis van. They drove it into a crowd to break a line. Mac was one of the ones that stood their ground. It passed him to within an inch. Then they opened a door and knocked him to the ground and grabbed him. They gave him a kicking then done him for assault – assaulting the van. Gerry and them went to the polis office to get him out but it was a Friday afternoon and they kept him in the cell till Monday morning. They said he kicked the door. The polis were laughing about it in court.
Mac was good. Ivan Johnson was just so wrong and the disrespect. He was an idiot. I couldnt believe he would have said something like that. He was looking at me now. It was me, and a smile, the way he smiled, and the most stupid thing ever he called me – not worth repeating except what happened next I went red in the face, just really like blushing because with Gerry and Mac there it was the worst of all. I couldnt think of anybody worse to be there and hearing it, and when he saw how it affected me he pointed at me and said it again with a name at the end, a woman’s name, he called me a woman’s name: the woman’s name then the highland waif! Oh look at her, the highland waif, she’s blushing oh she’s blushing oh dear she is blushing, she is so red.
It was just stupid and horrible. I couldnay handle the damn thing at all what he was saying, I couldnay and it was like I would start greeting, him pointing at me and smiling the way he was smiling. Oh the highland waif, she’s just so upset.
How could I not handle it? I couldnt. I wished I could fly out the window or just disappear. What it was reminding me of was the patter ye get with guys that are gay or like if they are drag artists, just the way he done it, digging in at me and hurting me, he was just hurting me, that is what he was doing, how could he hurt me like that, I wanted to punch him, just batter him, pick something up and just batter him with it, Gerry there and not stopping it, just letting him do it to me. It beat me. I couldnay do anything. I was used to fighting and here I couldnt, like I was stuck there on the spot and it was just the worst ever and I felt again I was going to start greeting and maybe I dont know, if I was, maybe I was and Gerry being there and hearing it and just seeing me like that – and Mac, the two of them, what they were thinking, it was so so bad and the worst ever there could be.
I felt like I dont know just if I lost my temper, what would happen, but I didnt lose my temper or get raging angry, I was just in a state, just shaking, I think I was – and how too what I knew, they werent telling him to shut his mouth. They should have, they should have told him. They just were looking at me, not smiling, whatever, just looking.
It was just so bad, ye couldnay describe how bad it was. But why did they not tell him? They could have made him shut up. Even battered him, I would have battered him. Because they were old comrades, if that is what it was, so they wouldnay hit an old comrade. But what about me? How come they didnay see me? What was I? Okay if I was just young and hadnay been around much except a few months but I was always there and went to meetings. Usually always I did. What about him? artist guy, an artist guy. I had never seen him at one single thing. Never. Not on any march or demo or any solitary damn thing ever. Things that needed to be done, I done them. It was me. I always helped. If there was any stall or any damn thing, helping set it up or bringing in all the books and cards and stuff from the van and even two times I looked after the stall and took in the money. Usually but I was giving out the fliers and leaflets. Whatever, just what was needed, I done it. I just helped. Not just me, there were other ones. Women as well as men. We just did things to help, like tonight I delivered them the stuff. The printer’s was my full-time job, I was typesetting and line-editing and doing all kinds of other work. That was what I got paid for. Not for doing after-work deliveries.
Naybody asked me to do it. I just did it. I didnay look for any thanks either. Things were needed. That was all. I just helped. I knew they needed stuff for tonight. The most of it would be for tomorrow. Gerry was glad when I said I would bring it because the van was needed – needed for here. I didnt know why it was needed, I didnt know it was for him, Ivan Johnson. When I phoned Gerry he told me to come round with it and that was how it happened. They could collect the bulk of it first thing in the morning.
I was a help. I dont know how this was happening. Where was the guy, I dont know, he had stopped talking. He was maybe out the room, I dont know, I wasnay looking. I wasnay looking at anything. Just the floor maybe, I dont know. I dont know.
I dont know even if my eyes were open, all what was happening, how come even it bothered me it was all just stupid shite nonsense. That was in my brain. How come this even bothered me? It shouldnay have bothered me at all, just so shite, so shite, and went on all the time with guys and everybody, everybody. The five-a-sides, it was always like that, then ye were having a shower and everybody, and that kind of daft patter, skelping yer bum and pointing at ye, yer dick or whatever, all shouting things, it was aye there and ye were ready for it because ye were used to it and ye were never blushing, not at all, no since school ye would never have blushed, that was like – what was worse than that? No much. That was like the worst could happen and the guys would have got ye, they would have, they would have got ye. Imagine them hearing about this? If ever they ever heard about it.
My mouth was all dry now. It was like I didnay have the power to do anything much, except stand there and maybe shut my eyes but that was the last thing, I wouldnay shut my eyes, I wouldnay have done that, as if that was me completely finished because I wasnay, I wasnay, fucking arsehole bastard, saying that about me, getting at me like that, and I looked up and Gerry was looking, just looking, that was something, just like looking at me. I couldnay cope with it. I couldnay cope with it. Whatever he thought, that was the worst thing, him and Mac, what they thought. It was all inside going to roll down, if I blinked, all the tears.
Then what happened next was Ivan Johnson. He had a beer out and he pulled off the stopper. He said something. Then he said something else. I dont know, I didnt hear, if I was listening.
He drank the beer and put the can on the floor then was filling a binliner with stuff. He tied it up and walked out with it. Now Gerry said to Mac about the van and how was it running, stuff like that.
It was as if I was in a movie and now almost I thought I was deaf, I could see stuff and no hear anything like maybe I wasnay even there. What a strange thing the way it all happened. A dreamscape. All out of nothing. Ten minutes ago it was all fine and ever
ything was okay and now it was this. I didnay even have to be there. It wasnay overtime. It was nothing. I didnay even have to go the message, it was just a favour, that was all it was, I was doing it for them.
That daft clock up on the wall, it was going on ten past seven. The guys would be in the café having a juice or something, just relaxing before the game.
So it was a taxi. That meant watching the money for tomorrow. A taxi was stupid but what else. If I didnay leave soon I would be too late even then. Ye had to be on the pitch at 7.30 p.m. and if ye were late it didnay matter, ye still had to be off at 8.45. The next teams were waiting.
Gerry was on the phone again, leaning against the window alcove, staring out. Mac was carrying some pictures out the room. I was able to get a grip of myself. Mac came back in and passed me a beer. Ye’ll sweat it off later, he said. Unless ye want a cup of tea!
Ivan Johnson was in the room again. Mac said, Cups Ivan? In the kitchen?
Generally speaking, yes, this is where we find the fucking cups, in the fucking kitchen. Ivan Johnson looked at me. Is that not the case Hector, that one finds the fucking cups in the fucking kitchen?
Gerry looked over.
Ivan Johnson said to me, Dont look at him for support, he’s got a habit of leaving his friends in distress. God knows what he makes of you!
I dont know what ye mean, what d’ye mean? I dont know how ye’re doing this?
Oh you dont?
No.
Hey man, why dont ye give it a rest? Mac said, Ye’re going over the score as per usual.
If it’s as per usual why tell me about it? Why make a comment about it at all? If there’s nothing to say dont say it, ye know the old saying. Hector here knows what I’m talking about, dont you Hector?
His name’s Calum, said Gerry.
Yes and a fine upstanding name it is. It’s a fine upstanding name. Ivan Johnson stared at me. So ye’re back in the land of the living eh! Well done. He sighed and lifted his beer from the floor. I had been trying to figure it out, he said, it took me ten seconds. Now Ivan Johnson glanced over to Mac, and raised the beer to him. Old goody-two-shoes!