Looking For the Possible Dance

by A. L. Kennedy

  It is difficult being here, in this carriage, tugged further and further south when Colin is still at home, still getting used to walking and feeding himself, still giving just a little start whenever the wind shakes the windows, whenever the doorbell rings.

  She misses him. She misses her daddy and she misses Colin more.

  The walls by the side of the track are very strange now, grey brick and black brick and honey brick. Margaret has entered a foreign country. She remembers seeing waxwings searching the grass when she was at university and suddenly feeling homesick because they were not Scottish birds. There was something a little impossible about them. And that was all it took to make you miss things, a mild impossibility, a slight difference of birds.

  Margaret stares out at trees of an alien green and reminds herself that her ticket is a return. There are trains up and down from Scotland every day and she does have that return. An open return. She closes her eyes again. Someone has left the carriage for a smoke, she can smell its thin sourness drifting in.

  Margaret knew she couldn’t face the Factory again before she even left the hospital. Mr Ho patted her arm.

  ‘I will telephone them in the morning. Some people would rather work through pain, some people would rather not – particularly when their employers are bastards.’

  ‘Yeah, well.’

  ‘I’ll call and say you will probably be there on Monday, but then again, you might not. Do you think you’ll sleep tonight?’

  ‘I think so. I don’t know why, but I feel very tired. I’ll sleep.’

  ‘Good. You and Colin, you both should sleep. But this is my number at home. If you would like to phone me during the night, I will be glad to speak to you. It would be a pleasure, in fact. Now. Down to the car.’

  Margaret folded the piece of paper into her pocket as she walked, thinking of how long it would take before Colin could fold anything, hold anything.’

  On Friday morning, Lesley phoned. It took Margaret a while to recognise the voice. She sat up in bed and tried to get her mind to focus.

  ‘Hello, Maggie, that is Maggie?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘This is Lesley. You know, from work. Look, I’m. This is all very difficult for us.’

  ‘It isn’t too wonderful for me.’

  ‘I’m ever so sorry about Colin. It was in the paper. It sounded, well, it sounded –’

  ‘If you’re really interested, I can tell you how it looked.’

  ‘I know you’re upset.’

  ‘Good. So now we both know.’

  ‘And I’ve got a message from Mr Lawrence. He’s decided to give you compassionate leave.’

  ‘I’m honoured.’

  ‘You’ll still get paid and everything, but you just won’t need to come back.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, obviously you’ll need to come in for your things and all that, but – He says you needn’t come back to work. You can stay off until your notice runs out.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. Who ever does with him. Look, we really will. We’ll miss you. You’ll be missed. The kids have been asking for you. And Graham.’

  ‘Which kids?’

  ‘Oh, all of them: Elaine, Susan, Tam, Gus.’

  ‘Gus? Gus was asking for me?’

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘No reason. Well, thanks for the call.’

  ‘There’s no need to be like this, you know. We’re all doing our best under very difficult circumstances. I’ve heard rumours about our funding.’

  ‘Really? That’s awful. I’m just worrying about a man who’s in hospital because he’s been crucified and now he can’t walk, or do up a button, or wipe his own arse. You should come and look at his face, Lesley – it’s green. There are the cuts and bruises and the swelling, but basically his face is green. It didn’t used to be that colour. And all I can do is sit here and hope he’ll get better and know that he’ll be off work for months and know that I’ll be out of a job in three weeks’ time. Would you like to tell me how we’re going to live? No, of course not, you’ve got so much on your mind.’

  ‘There’s really no talking to you, is there? No wonder Lawrence wants you out the way. You never knew when you were well off, that’s your trouble.’

  ‘Well, I don’t mean to add to your worries, but it’s not just me that’s going out the way. You and Sammy are next. It’s all change down the Factory. Everybody out. And keep hold of your knickers. As far as Lawrence is concerned, you’ll be next.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I know.’

  Margaret hung up the phone. Then she picked it up and threw it against the wall. Then she picked up the alarm clock and threw that, too. The telephone survived, but the alarm didn’t. Its glass had shattered. The alarm clock her father had bought her, she couldn’t think how long before: its glass was shattered and the hinge on the case was bent.

  COLIN WAS FRIGHTENING for Margaret when she took delivery of him.

  ‘I don’t think they should have let you out. They said they couldn’t spare your bed any longer. Can you believe that – you can only be ill for as long as we don’t need the bed.’

  ‘You can phone and ask if they’ll take me back.’

  ‘I would rather have you here where I can see you, I just don’t know if I’m doing the right things. What happens if – I mean, how could they ever be sure of where you were going, if you’d be alright?’

  ‘They weren’t sure. I wasn’t. What do you mean, what happens if – what happens when I get worse? Why don’t you just send me back to my own place. This isn’t fair, you don’t want me here. We decided that before. Before this happened.’

  ‘Colin, I know you’re annoyed that you can’t do things, I know this is not ideal, I know it hurts. But we’re doing our best. Me and you and Mr Ho, we’re doing well.’

  ‘When are you going away?’

  ‘Away?’

  ‘I heard you on the phone last night. It’s all I can do now; listen. You were talking to Helen. She’s in London. Are you going to London?’

  ‘I was thinking about it. I called her to say it was off. I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘You should go. You’d get a job down there. Go.’

  ‘I don’t want to go just now. I would rather be here. We can both go down later, try it down there. I would rather – oh, fuck you’re impossible.’

  ‘Aye, go on, walk out on me. You know I can’t follow you. You could be doing anything through there, you could be fucking. I couldn’t do a thing about it.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Oh, the nurse is back. I must have really upset her, to get her to stay in the same room with me, oh fucking dear. I said, you could be fucking through there – I wouldn’t know. I couldn’t stop you.’

  ‘And who would I be fucking?’

  ‘How would I know?’

  ‘I don’t know – you’re the expert. You tell me. Who would I fuck? Who have I ever fucked?’

  ‘The German student.’

  ‘One night. After you left me. Who else?’

  ‘How would I know?’

  ‘Because I told you. Because I told you everything. No one else but you. There’s no one else that made me feel like this.’

  ‘Except for the German student.’

  ‘I was drunk. Have I ever said I didn’t want you?’

  ‘Of course not. You didn’t have to. It was fucking obvious.’

  It was hard not to just argue with him when he wanted an argument. She didn’t want to score points any more, to tally up the battles and the wars. Probably only the smell of pain around him was stopping her from telling him to get to fuck.

  And Colin looked different now. There was something about him, under the paleness and the scars. A piece had been added or removed and he seemed somehow much closer to her than he had been. She could feel him close, all over the house – in rooms he hadn’t visited since he arrived. Or maybe she was closer
to him, she wasn’t sure who’d moved.

  ‘I’ve never said I didn’t want you and it has never been true. I’ve always wanted you. Sometimes I need to be sure about things, I can’t help that.’ She knelt beside his chair. ‘I want you now.’

  ‘Now. That’s terrific, that’s lovely, when I’m like this. Not exactly threatening like this, am I.’

  ‘You never were threatening. I still want you, whatever you’re like. I can’t help it.’

  Margaret kissed his eyes; licked them, kissed his forehead and his mouth.

  ‘Don’t do that.’

  ‘But I want to.’

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Don’t, please don’t. Don’t.’

  Colin cried and Margaret licked at his eyes. She cradled his head.

  ‘Darling. Ssssh. I can love you as much as I want to now and you can’t stop me. You know that? You can’t do a thing about it.’

  ‘Don’t.’

  ‘I’m crazy, now, didn’t you know? Anything could happen.’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘And I want to love you and make you better. I want to be with you. Baby. Look at me. You can still look at me. Just look at me and I’ll do things for you. Please. Please. Just tell me what you’d like. Tell me what you’d like to see.’

  ‘Margaret.’

  ‘Tell me. What would you like? Would you like this? Would you?’

  ‘You don’t have to do this.’

  ‘I’m doing it because I want to. If I stand here, near your face. Is that nice? That’s for you.’

  ‘It’s nice. It is nice. But I’m – you’re making me cry.’

  ‘That’s not a problem. That’s fine. Put your tongue out. Please. Further. Now then, let’s see.’

  When Graham and Elaine came to the door, Margaret was feeding Colin on boiled egg and bread. She watched the colour leave his face as she wiped his lips.

  ‘Who’s that, are you expecting someone?’

  ‘No.’ She touched his arm and kissed him. ‘I’ll go and see.’

  ‘You’ll put the chain on.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Graham sat with Colin for the whole of the afternoon, reading him the papers or sitting and smoking while he took a nap. Elaine mainly stayed in the kitchen with Margaret, listening to the radio.

  ‘That’s your man, then?’

  ‘Kind of. Yes, Elaine.’

  ‘I’ve never really seen him before. He looks rotten.’

  ‘You should have seen him in the hospital.’

  ‘I bet. He was in the papers. My auld man looks like that every Sunday when he’s sobering up. Nobody would ever notice if they took him away and nailed him to the floor.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sorry. You’ll not like folk talking about it.’

  ‘No, not really.’

  ‘Graham doesn’t know, but I’ve got a message for you.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘From Gus.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I mean, he told me what he did and I think he’s a total arsehole. He’ll not tell any of the boys because they’ll do him. Anyway, he says he’s sorry.’

  ‘Aye, I bet.’

  ‘Lawrence said he could get a job.’

  ‘I guessed.’

  ‘He says he told Lawrence he could stick the job, he didn’t want it any more.’

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘At least someone would have got something out of this.’

  ‘He’s no having to work for Lawrence and he’s no getting chibbed. That’s better than something. I think he is sorry.’

  ‘Tell him, that’s good. I hope he does alright. Really.’

  ‘I’ll tell him.’

  Elaine poured herself another mug of tea. Her hands moved neatly, lightly, arranging the milk and sugar, stirring without a sound.

  ‘Maggie?’

  ‘Aye?’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know. I was going to go to London, but I don’t know. I never liked London.’

  ‘Go down to Cardboard City, eh?’

  ‘Could be.’

  ‘Maggie?’

  ‘Aye?’

  ‘I hope you do alright.’

  Margaret could think of nothing to say after that and so they sat in silence, drawing patterns in the sugar she’d spilled on the table-top. Graham stalked along the passage behind them so quietly that the sound of his voice in the room made Elaine give a little scream.

  ‘Sorry, hen, I thought that you knew I was here. Do you have to be miserable to sit at this table or can anyone join you.’

  ‘Sit down, Graham. I think there’s still some tea. Thanks for coming. I didn’t know if I’d see you before I went away.’

  ‘I did say we wouldn’t forget you. And, in fact, I’m here in an official capacity. Some of us got you this. These.’

  Graham handed over a thin parcel and two envelopes.

  ‘We thought you could stoke up inflation by causing a surge in consumer expenditure. The white envelope is a book token from the fishermen. You could use it for records, too. The other white envelope is a voucher you can spend in Marks & Spencer’s. That’s from the weans – they thought you could get some of that comfy Tory underwear that everyone goes on about. So there you go.’

  ‘You haven’t told her about the parcel.’

  ‘Well, that’s nothing at all. A book I had lying round the house. Descartes – you’ll not feel like reading it, but it’ll look good when the bailiffs come round. Talking of which, if you need a wee hand, I wouldn’t like to think you were going short and not saying so.’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’

  ‘Call it what you like – if we don’t help each other there’s nothing left. We know who did it, by the way.’

  ‘Did it?’

  ‘The wee man’s accident.’

  Margaret dipped her head. ‘He knows who did it. He just won’t tell me. Or anyone. If you know who they are, leave them alone.’

  ‘That’s what he said.’

  ‘It’s not that he’s scared. He just wants it finished. No more people getting hurt. And I agree with him. We’d rather be happy than right, you know?’

  ‘Aye, well, we’ll see. He’s asleep again, through there, so you can say our goodbyes when he wakes up. We should be on our way.’

  Margaret stood up to hug them both, before they left, knowing that the house would seem lonely without them, knowing that she would like them to come back.

  ‘Listen, I’m sure Colin would like to see you again – me too. We don’t get many visitors. It gets a bit tense.’

  Elaine smiled and offered another motherly kiss.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll see you soon.’

  ‘Bye for now, hen. And remember, any help you need.’

  ‘Still the magician.’

  ‘Aye, something like that.’

  They settled themselves as usual that night. Margaret helped Colin into her bed, saw that he had everything he might need, then went through to her sofa and the sleeping bag.

  By half-past one, Margaret knew that she wouldn’t sleep. She was lying on the floor, hugging one of the sofa cushions up tight to her chest. Lights looped and hopped round the walls as cars passed in the street, but mainly all the windows let in was a general, yellow haze – what the city did to moonlight.

  Margaret zipped herself out of the bag and walked to the door and then opened it and stepped through. Colin’s door was open, the room quite dark and still around his breathing. He murmured as she moved into the bed and inched the covers back in place. She very gently touched his back and this seemed to quiet him.

  Colin woke her maybe three hours later. He was holding her more tightly than he should be able to without having pain. She could feel him looking at her in the dark.

  ‘I knew you would be here. I knew you would be here.’

  ‘Of course I’m here, it’s alright. Be careful of your hands.’


  ‘I need you.’

  ‘I’m here.’

  He pinned her arm against the mattress with his elbow, held her in a way that hurt.

  ‘You don’t understand. I hear music now. I go to sleep and then I hear music. I need you to be there when that happens.’

  ‘I will be.’

  ‘But it has to be forever. You have to stay with me forever. I can’t let you go. Be with me. I think I would kill you if you went away. I think I would. Please.’

  ‘It’s alright. I’m here. Let me hold you. I’ll hold you. Mind your hands.’

  ‘They’re hurting me.’

  ‘I know. Let go.’

  ‘Don’t go away.’

  ‘There are pills just by the bed here.’

  ‘No! Not yet. Promise me something. Promise me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Promise first. Promise.’

  ‘Alright, baby, alright.’

  ‘When I’m better and I can be in my own flat you have to go away.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You have to go away to London and if you’re ever going to leave me, you have to do it then. Just stay away. If you come back, it has to be forever. Please. Promise.’

  ‘I, I promise. I’ll go to London. But I’ll come back.’

  ‘Go, you have to go. As soon as you can.’

  ‘When you’re well enough. Baby, you should be asleep. Let me get you a pill.’

  ‘No, no, I’ll sleep now. Stay there. Stay there and I won’t hear the music. Stay there.’

  Margaret lay with the damp, soft weight of his head across her shoulder. She lay, holding still, thinking she wouldn’t sleep like this, that her arm was turning numb.

  She knew she had been mistaken when she woke again and the morning was outside, waiting to fall through the curtains, full of birds.

  MARGARET HAS PUT her coat on and her case is ready. She is standing out by the door with the window pulled down, feeling the dangerous rush of air and watching the tiny slowing of the walls and junctions as they pass. Without noticing, she rubs the warm metal of her only ring and winds it around and around her finger. Her track is beginning to bind itself under others. Margaret can feel things around her mooring, rippling up to the platform’s head and then growing still.