I watch her startin to weave through the crowd towards where I seen Shenaz; her wee black figure tryin no to collide wi marchers millin about and weans runnin. She looks a lot mair unsure of hersel than she done on the march. You can see that the long black coat doesny make her feel invisible at all. No yet, anyway. It makes her stand out mair; people are starin at her, when she goes by. I canny stand it. I run to catch up wi her and start walkin beside her. She turns round, surprised.
Where you going? she says.
Thought I’d come and say hello to Shenaz.
She stops and faces me. No, don’t, Clare. Please! she says. And I’m like kinda taken aback at how anxious she sounds.
OK, OK, don’t worry. I won’t then. I’ll just walk alang wi you a wee bit.
You don’t have to.
I want to.
Please yourself.
I think she’s mad at me cause she doesny really want to go wi them and she knows I know, and that makes her even mair annoyed.
Anyway, I was gonny thank you again for lettin me wear your braid.
That’s alright.
It’s beautiful.
Don’t mention it.
Will you come round themorrow and sew it on properly?
Maybe.
And we could do our Sunset Song essays thegether.
I said maybe, Clare. She’s stopped again and it’s obvious she doesny want me to come any further.
Alright, I says. See you on Monday, if no themorrow. And I leave her there.
The other reason I’m glad she’s away is cause a Julian and what might happen later.
I walk back through all the folk and when I’m gettin close to where we were standin, beside the bushes, near the burger van, I’m like, Oh no! There’s my ma and da. I half think of hidin till they’re away, but they’ve seen me already.
My ma’s talkin to Danny. She’s a lot happier than I’ve saw her for months. She nearly looks young. Danny’s turned half away fae my da and my da’s talkin to Jed. Julian’s standin a wee bit to the side, lookin spare. But when I come right up to them, the exact same moment, I hear my ma saying to Julian, And how’s Laetitia?
How does she know about Laetitia!
Oh, she’s over the worst of it now, I imagine.
Worst of what? I’m thinkin.
When’s the baby due? my ma says.
July, Julian says. Mid to late July.
Baby!
Danny must a saw the look on my face, cause he says, Did I no tell you, Clare? Sorry. Aye, Laetitia’s pregnant; nearly four months.
I look at Julian. He’s starin down at his feet on the cement path.
I want to sit down but there’s nowhere to sit.
I want to take my placard and whack him right across his stupid face.
I want him to put his arms round me and sing Bob Marley songs.
I want to be home in my own room, sittin on my bed, lookin in my granny’s mirror.
My da comes forward. You alright, hen? You look a bit pale. Better get you hame.
No, Danny says, she’s comin back to the flat wi us. Postdemo party. She’ll be fine wi some grub in her belly.
Why’s he sayin that? Is he tryin to protect me? Does he no realize? Why’s he sayin that?
That what you want, hen? my da says.
I notice my ma eyein me up, tryin to kid on she’s no.
Aye, I’m fine, Da, I says. I’m goin to the flat for a wee while. I’ll no be late.
He pulls a tenner out his pocket and hands it to me. Make sure you take a taxi hame, he says.
We come up fae Finnieston and walk through the park. The demo’s startin to disperse now; a lot a folk are walkin away fae the Armadillo in this direction. Julian’s went off somewhere to get more tobacco. That’s what he says, anyway. The sun’s still shinin and I’m frozen. Jed’s talkin to me but I canny concentrate on what he’s sayin. Somethin about the birds you can see further up the river.
Aye, he says, there’s a heron and cormorants and goosanders. He’s countin off on his fingers. Mallards, moorhens. I’m told there’s kingfishers too, but I’ve no seen them yet.
Danny’s been quiet walkin along, but he says, Kingfishers? In the middle a Glasgow? You sure you’ve no been pallin about wi the junkies down there? Gettin a hit aff them? Away wi the birds and the bees?
No, seriously, he says. Kingfishers. Ask anybody who’s down there a lot: parkies, guys fishin, dog walkers. They’ll all tell you. There’s kingfishers nestin along the Kelvin. You ever seen one, Clare?
What?
A kingfisher.
A kingfisher?
Yes.
No.
Would you like to?
What?
See one.
A kingfisher?
Aye.
Suppose so, I says. I get the feelin Jed’s tryin to cheer me up, but I canny picture a kingfisher. I canny imagine the colours. No the now.
They’re probably all aff their faces down there, Danny says.
Jed looks at him. Who?
The guys fishin. The parkies. The fuckin dog walkers.
Your cynicism ill becomes you, Mr Kilkenny.
I’m tired a this conversation. I want to be on my own to think. I walk away fae them a wee bit. Folk fae the demo are all travellin in the same direction through the park. The path we’re on comes near the river at this point. I look ower the railin at it; I don’t see any birds. Just dirty brown water wi the usual junk. Across on the other bank, there’s some a they giant hogweed, the dried-out stalks a them, about six feet high wi the spray of wee jaggy stars at the top. You’re no meant to touch it; they telt us at school a couple a years ago. It’s poisonous. There’s an old pram sittin on an island in the middle of the stream, just sittin in the middle of the river, the water flowin by, draggin long grass like green hair in the current. Wonder how it got there. Wonder where the baby is that used it last.
A baby!
We’re just finishin the carry-out when Julian comes in, a roll-up in one hand and a bottle a wine in the other.
Any nosh for me? he says.
You, ya spongin bastard!
In exchange for some excellent weed? He waves a wee poly bag wi some green stuff in. Same colour as his combat jacket.
I keep my head down and my eyes on my chicken korma and dip a piece of naan in the sauce. It’s better than the curries you get in the scheme, a lot a flavours I’ve no tasted afore. I dip and dip the naan till it’s soaked up as much sauce as possible, but I canny lift it to my mouth to eat it. I leave it in the gravy and lick my fingers instead. The napkins you get in they places are no any better in the West End; wee thin things that fall to bits as soon as they get wet. I take my packet a hankies out my bag and wipe my hands on one a them instead.
By the time I look up again, Julian’s went and got a plate fae the kitchen and he’s helpin himsel to saffron rice and lamb tandoori and dhal and they lady’s finger things – okra, Jed called them. He sits down on the red sofa, at the other end fae me and starts eatin. Jed hands him a bottle a beer.
Wonderful! he says. Heaven. I could smell this coming up the stairs. Started the juices going before my key was in the lock.
Aye, Ali’s is the best, Danny says.
I try to look sideyways at Julian wi my head still down, keepin my dreads out the gravy. The gel in his hair’s started to wear off and it’s no stickin up as much, but it’s still straight and spiky. And bleached. It makes his face look as if it’s got mair colour in it and his eyes are darker. He takes a mouthful a curry and holds his bottle up.
Nay offence, Tish, as they say in Glasgow, but it’s good to be able to eat a curry without the sound of vomiting as background music.
Jed and Danny both hold their bottles up.
I’ll drink to that, Jed says.
Aye, thank fuck she’s ower that stage, Danny says. I thought she was gonny disappear althegether, she got so thin.
I’m like, shocked. At Jed especially; he ayeways comes across as
dead understanding.
Danny looks at me. You no want the rest a your chicken, Clare?
Aye, I do, I says. I’m havin a break.
Keep your hair on; only askin.
So, what did you think of the demo, Clare? Julian says. How does it compare with Florence?
I glance up at him quick, but his face doesny give nothin away. Maybe it’s a straight question. It feels a bit like at school, when a teacher expects you to gie an intelligent answer, but no much comes into your head. I shrug my shoulders.
Don’t know. I think I had mair hope at the one in Florence. Like, that maybe it could achieve somethin. I look at Jed when I’m talkin, no Julian.
Jed says, I thought today was hopeful. No matter what happens – and I don’t have any illusions that war will be averted; Blair’s hitched his wagon to Dubya’s horse and they cowboys decided long ago – but, no matter what happens, there’s a different mood.
Think so? Danny says. Is that no your romanticism? It’ll take mair than a war in distant places, mair than a few hunner thousand dead Iraqis, mair than a few of our boys hame in body bags, to shake the great British public out their apathy.
It’s great when guys talk politics; you can sit there quiet and think your ain thoughts and naybody notices you. Same wi my da. No Julian but.
What’s your view, Clare? Didn’t you start a group at school? He’s tryin to get me to look at him. School kids interested in politics; that hasn’t happened in a long time?
Naybody’s interested normally in what school kids think. I say this to Jed.
True, Jed says. He’s lookin at me dead sympathetic. But it was great to see you and Farkhanda there, and all the other… young people.
I know he’s tryin to say the right thing, Jed, but he’s makin it worse. I feel about five now. I stand up and hand over my plastic curry tray to Danny.
Here, I says, I’m no wantin any mair.
I pass Jed on the chair and go round the back a Danny sittin on the floor, so’s I don’t have to step ower Julian’s legs to get out the door.
Where you goin, Clare?
For a pee, if that’s alright. Or am I meant to ask for permission?
Was it something I said? Jed says.
I sling him a deafie, ignore the lot a them and cross the hall to the bathroom. It’s dead different, the flat, since they painted it. Or since Danny painted it; I think it was Danny done maist of it. The hall’s dark red now, like bein inside a heart. I switch on the light. Somebody’s hung a mirrored globe up beside it, and wee slivers a light appear on the walls, shivering.
The bathroom’s a sort a pale blue and there’s a mirror above the sink wi a weird kind a mosaic in blue and green, like hunners a eyes watchin you lookin at your reflection.
Mirror, mirror on the wall, I says… I don’t suppose you know fuck all.
That makes me feel better! I even catch mysel smilin in the middle of the starin eyes. They’ve put a fancy shower curtain up above the bath now, sky blue, wi a huge print on it of a painting. I pull it straight on the rail to see it properly. The metal rings rattle along it. It’s a picture of a bare naked woman comin out a tree grabbin for this guy, who looks like he’s tryin to get away, but she’s clutchin him round the waist. He’s bare too, except for a wee bit of see-through cloth coverin his privates. Only it’s bunched up, so’s you canny see anything interestin through it. At the bottom it says Tree of Forgiveness. It looks like a Burne-Jones. I’m nearly sure it is; the faces are mair or less identical to the ones I seen in the paintings on the internet. King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid was one. That beggar maid was nothing like me, I didny think. I couldny work out what Laetitia was talkin about in her diary.
Which reminds me… it’s still in my bag; I’ve no had a chance to put it anywhere yet.
I lock the door and put the toilet seat down. There’s a smell of antiseptic in the room that makes you think of hospitals. I bet they scrubbed it to get rid of the smell of sick. How come Danny never mentioned to me about Laetitia bein sick? About her bein pregnant? I imagine her sittin on this seat doin a pregnancy test.
I wonder when they all knew. I suppose the last time I really seen Danny properly was at Christmas, when my ma persuaded him to come hame for the day. A truce was called. It was like him and my da were walkin on eggshells round about one another the whole day. I felt sorry for my ma, she’d went to such a lot a trouble, cooked the biggest turkey I’ve ever saw.
I feel like Tiny Tim, Danny says.
And my da says, Does that make me Bob Cratchit?
Who’s he? Danny says. And it was obvious my da thought he was takin the piss. But I don’t think he was; he really hadny heard a Bob Cratchit. They hardly said a word to one another after that. I found my ma in the kitchen later, takin big gulps a wine, lookin at the steamed-up window, wi tears pourin down her face.
Christmas, she says. Peace and Goodwill to All Men. And she tipped up her glass and finished her wine in a oner.
But Danny must a telt her about Laetitia at some point. Maybe he was askin her advice. People are aye askin my ma advice about medical things, cause she works in the doctor’s, even though she’s only a receptionist. Like Mrs Hazel in the top flat. It was my ma discovered it was her daughter, Jenny, flingin the bags a sick out the window onto the back green. All these poly bags a vomit, the handles tied in a bow. The women started to notice them when they were takin their rubbish out, thought at first it was the alkies daein it. But it wasny; my ma found out it was the lassie up the stair. She took her maw up a stack a leaflets about bulimia and spoke to her for hours. Mrs Hazel never knew a thing about it. You would think you would suspect some thin, if your daughter was throwin up all the time. But my ma says sometimes the people closest to you are hardest to fathom. She says I should talk to Jenny sometime, ask her in. But I don’t really know her; she’s a quiet lassie, a couple a years younger than me, and she goes to a different school.
That shouldny matter, my ma says, where’s your sense of community?
It was you sent me to St Veronica’s.
That’s no the point, she says. I’m no talkin about Catholics and Protestants. I’m talkin about a lassie that stays up the same close as you, for heaven’s sake.
This happens wi me and my ma all the time now.
Somebody tries the bathroom door and I get a fright.
You alright in there, Clare?
It’s Danny. I stand up quick and pull up my pants and jeans. I’ve no been in that long, have I?
Aye, I’m fine, I says. I press the flush and shout over the noise. You wantin in?
No. Just wonderin where you’d got to.
I’ll be out in a minute.
I put the plug in the basin and run some hot water. The eyes round the mirror are kinda spooky. Except when you look at them close up; then you can see all the wee bits a tile and glass. It doesny look like a bought mirror; I wonder who made it. It’s no the kind a thing Danny would do. And I canny see Julian havin the patience. Must be either Jed or Laetitia. But you would think, if it was one a them, it would be brown; they’ve baith got brown eyes. The blue’s a bright blue, like Julian’s, but brighter. The green’s an emerald green, like naybody’s eyes I’ve ever saw. And there’s a sorta peacocky shimmer on the blue and the green. A red tinge too, deep inside.
That’s when I realize there’s a reflection of me in every single eye; every one’s a wee mirror. The red is my dreads flarin. It’s like they can really see me. Mesmerizing. I can hardly tear my eyes away fae them, but I force mysel to focus on the normal mirror and I have to laugh. I’m like some kind a startled animal; a creature peepin out its burrow, wi the eyes of all the other creatures a the forest starin out all round. My dreads are tangled, a bit of a mess. I pick them up, a bunch at a time, and separate them. Farkhanda’s braid’s as black and glossy as ever; the hairpin’s no moved since she fixed it.
And Julian’s. Julian’s is getting fuzzy again. It’s like a stick of light wi a kind a haze round it. Julian.
Clare?
A whisper outside the door. It’s like he can hear me thinkin!
I’ll no be long, I says.
Can I come in?
I’ll no be a minute.
I want to see you.
His mouth must be right up against the door, cause I can hear him and he’s definitely whisperin.
I look at mysel one more time in the mirror and I pull back the bolt.
He’s in before I know where I am and he’s bolted the door behind him. He birls round and looks at me. Full on. Like I says, I know it’s a trick, but… He’s standin right under the light and his bleached hair’s sparklin. I put up my hand to touch it and he grabs me round the waist and pulls me to him.
Danny, I says. He’ll hear us. And Jed.
They’re stoned, he says, and he bundles all my dreads round the back and kisses me under my ear. I can smell his ordinary tobacco and the waccy baccy mixed thegether, alang wi the curry. His stubble prickles my neck and I breathe out, push him away.
What about Laetitia?
For a second, his eyes go far away, then he turns them on me again. She’s not here, he says. I want you, Clare. I want you. He nuzzles under my dreads.
And even though I know. Even though I know…
Wait, I says. I reach in my back pocket. Use this.
He steps back. His eyes open wide and then he smiles, takes the condom off me. He kisses me hard on the mouth; our teeth crash together; I taste the sour taste of tobacco off his tongue. He pushes me towards the bath and pulls back the shower curtain; the lassie disappears into the tree and the guy goes wae her. He starts undoin his belt and his zip.
Get in the bath, he says. I climb in and he comes after me. He takes me by the shoulders and shoves me against the tiles and unzips my jeans. Pulls them down wi my pants inside, down to the top a my boots.
Now, just stand there.
I do as I’m telt. The tiles are cold against my bum. He pulls the curtain along the rail again and I’m lookin at the back a the painting, over his shoulder; the skin’s kind a gold, transparent, wi the light shinin through fae the other side.
Demo Page 25