How Late It Was How Late

by James Kelman

  If it sounds country it’s a country song…is that right Sammy?

  …

  Ye wanting to lay down the knife? Or what? Eh?

  I think ye should do like the man says, said somebody else.

  Sammy licked his lips then sniffed and shrugged his shoulders, laid the knife on the coffee table. Self defence, he said, it’s nay crime.

  They gave him a minute to get ready then fixed the bracelets on him from behind. Another couple were waiting outside on the corridor. When they got him into the van he was squashed between two of them who carried on this stupit conversation across his head. The droning noise in his left ear was terrible and his left eye seemed to be sticking, like the beginnings of a sty. What else, fuck sake, he wanted to scratch himself and couldnay. This is out of order, he said, these fucking bracelets. I’m no gony run away.

  Somebody chuckled.

  What about a smoke?

  Sammy ye’re such a macho bastard, a credit to us all.

  I’m only asking for a smoke, yer worst enemy, know what I’m talking about? the blindfolds and aw that.

  Shut up.

  Sammy shifted his shoulders, easing the strain on his arms and wrists. Nay point bothering with the bastards. Nay point getting angry. Nay point fuck all. He wasnay going naywhere so just relax. He would be sitting here till they decided otherwise, it wasnay down to him. So the pulse-rate. And only this blackness man it gave ye every chance, the auld concentration, nay visual interferences. A guy once showed him the ropes. It was based on breathing exercises. Especially good if ye were a smoker cause it helped clear yer lungs at the same time: what ye did was ye breathed out as far as ye could go then ye held it for a wee while, then blew out again; then ye breathed in slow, through yer nose; ye just took in half of what ye normally took, then ye did the same a couple of breaths later; then a couple of breaths later again: and ye carried on till ye forgot all about it. Good for awkward situations. It wasnay even a guy in the poky telt him it was somebody he laboured with on a building site. Stoor everywhere. Fucking clouds of it; auld asbestos man everything. Up yer nose and down yer throat. When ye spat up first thing in the morning it came out like a lump of fucking dross. But it was to calm ye down, that was the real reason ye done it, so ye didnay lose yer temper. The trouble was ye didnay always mind, so ye were liable to lose it afore ye begun. But the last thing he was gony do was lose the temper, the situation he was in, fucking wild man. Nay specs and nay stick either. Nay fucking tobacco. But at least if he had had the shades he could have shut the eyes and dozed off, naybody would have been any the wiser. As things stood he wouldnay chance it; too fucking exposed. He breathed in through his nose; then out, out as far, as far

  The bracelets had been switched to the front when the questioning started. There seemed to be a few of them in the room; they were wanting to know about the Friday, from how it started, the lost weekend. Their voices came from different places and it sounded like they were moving about the room when they were talking. The computer was going overtime. He took it stage by stage to start with. The tiff with Helen and aw that, it began ower something stupit, no worth talking about, in fact he could hardly even remember what it was about it was that fucking petty. He just thought she was away to work early; something like that. He was expecting her home late, the wee small hours. That was a problem for him, her being out working at nights, especially at the weekends, especially if he was holding a bit of dough. It was too tempting for a guy like Sammy. He wasnay a homebird. He wasnay used to it. So he liked going out, he liked the pub, no just for the bevy, he liked the crack as well, hearing the patter. Even considering ye were home three years, ye still enjoyed it.

  I’m no kidding ye, he said, even just out walking first thing in the morning, ye forget where ye are, then that first Glasgow voice hits ye; it makes ye smile, know what I’m saying, cause it’s a real surprise.

  And ye feel good, ye know, ye feel good, cheery. Then in the pub christ ye dont mean to get drunk. Ye just go for a jar and ye wind up having one too many. An auld story but true. Ye meet guys and ye sit on blethering. That Glasgow scene man cunts buy ye drink and ye have to buy them one back.

  Dont use the word ‘cunts’ again, it doesnay fit in the computer.

  …

  Okay so ye’re telling us yer girlfriend didnay come back. And so ye went back out; ye hit a betting shop and backed a few winners, so then ye hit the boozer, and that’s that, end of story.

  Till I woke up Sunday morning, aye.

  Ye got pissed.

  I was off the bevy a couple of weeks, so maybe it hit me worse than usual.

  Or else ye were drinking more than usual?

  Aye cause we dont have that many bad rows me and her, that’s what I’m saying.

  Plus ye were depressed.

  I was depressed, aye, no being able to get a job and aw that, the usual.

  What makes ye think it was a bad row? Ye says it was a tiff now ye’re saying it was a bad row. How come?

  Cause it doesnay happen often, we get on good the gether, so when it does happen ye call it bad, cause it upsets ye. I was upset, that’s how I hit the bevy.

  And from then till the Sunday morning all ye can mind is patches here and there?

  That’s right.

  What kind of patches?

  Eh?

  Ye’re saying patches, what d’ye mean exactly?

  I mean… Sammy stopped. The guy doing the keyboard had also stopped. They were waiting. A silence went against ye. Sammy shifted about on the chair, easing the bracelets. They’re bloody sore, he muttered.

  The patches Sammy what’re ye talking about?

  Do ye mean what do I remember?

  That’s correct.

  I’m no sure, I just eh

  …

  Last week ye says ye were with a drinking buddy.

  Well I was, the Leg, I telt ye.

  Okay and ye spent the night with him?

  The Saturday as well.

  So that was a clear patch was it?

  Eh… Sammy had turned his head; usually there were two of them asking the questions but sometimes this other yin butted in, and it was him had spoke last; his accent sounded a bit English.

  You mentioned clear patches.

  I’m just meaning occasional wee clear bits.

  Good, concentrate on them, the wee clear bits.

  Somebody chuckled.

  Can I smoke?

  Ye said yez met a couple of blokes during the course of the day.

  Ah well if ye drink in the area, know what I mean, ye’re bound to meet people.

  Who?

  Who?

  Who?

  What’re ye wanting the names!

  …

  Sammy shrugged. Billy somebody.

  Billy somebody?

  Aye.

  Ye met Billy somebody?

  I dont mind his second name. Then Roberts – Tam, Tam Roberts, we met him as well.

  Yez met Tam Roberts?

  He works down the market.

  What doing?

  He’s a hawker.

  What does he hawk?

  I dont know. Bits and pieces…

  Bits and pieces. And is that how yez met him? bits and pieces?

  We were pub-crawling, we met him in the pub.

  Was he hawking to you or were you hawking to him?

  …

  Silence was the answer.

  I dont know what ye’re meaning. Sammy sniffed. Nay chance of a fag?

  So these two men, the famous Billy somebody and the market salesman: who else?

  Being honest mate I couldnay tell ye; like I said I got drunk quite fast.

  A seasoned hand like you?

  Well ye know how it goes, the more the drinker the easier he gets pissed.

  So that’s how it goes.

  A wealth of information.

  And ye met them today?

  What?

  Today, ye met these two men today?

  What ye
talking about?

  He’s interested by the question.

  I didnay meet anybody the day.

  That’s hard to believe. Eh?

  Mister Samuels…

  What?

  Speak when spoken to.

  I dont always know when it’s me ye’re talking to, that’s the problem.

  That’s what problem?

  My problem.

  Your problem?

  I just hear voices, yez’re coming at me from all directions.

  Do ye think we’ve got an unfair advantage?

  Sammy smiled.

  You’ll notice about Mister Samuels, he’s got his wits about him.

  Smart.

  A smart chap; so let’s stick to the wee clear bits. About this Billy, the illustrious Billy, what about him?

  He wasnay a big guy.

  Oh.

  He was weer than me I mean. I think he might have had brown hair.

  Did he tell ye that?

  I remember it.

  And blue eyes?

  Might’ve been, I didnay notice, but I’m fairly sure he had brown hair. He was definitely weer than me.

  He telt ye that like?

  I remember it.

  I thought ye were suffering sightloss.

  Sammy sighed.

  I mean that’s what ye’ve been going about telling people. Plus the innuendo, being honest, ye’re a bit of a scandalmonger. We’ve been reading a statement ye prepared with our colleagues and it makes quite a nasty story.

  I changed my mind.

  Rottweilers, that was what ye called our colleagues.

  I was angry at the time, know what I mean, the heat of the moment; I probably exaggerated.

  Ye probably exaggerated?

  Aye.

  Ye more or less says it was our colleagues gave ye the sightloss.

  …

  Silence was the answer.

  It’s no that, said Sammy, it’s just that I cannay remember all the details. You’ve got the statement, I’ve no; even if I did have I couldnay read it.

  A guy as clever as you! I dont believe it.

  …

  Mind you he’s not always very precise. And he retracks statements. Have you noticed that? as easy as he makes them, he retracks them. Dont you Mister Samuels?

  What?

  What?

  …

  I’ll tell yez what I’m interested in, and I’m speaking purely as a betting man, it’s what winners the guy backed. Sammy here I mean he says he’s backed all these winners. I’d like to hear what their names were.

  Eh…

  Eh?

  I’m trying to think.

  See if I back a winner I remember it, it’s only losers I forget. It’s a bit like meeting a comrade ye havenay seen for a while, ye might forget his name, but the one thing ye dont forget is the fact ye’ve met him. I’m talking about afterwards, in the cold light of morning, give or take a loss of memory here, a loss of memory there. So I mean my question to Sammy, to you Sammy, what winners did ye back?

  It was favourites, I didnay name them.

  Ah.

  I just timed the races and marked them with a cross.

  Is that cause ye’re blind?

  Naw.

  Illiterate?

  Naw.

  What betting shop were ye in?

  Eh I think it was that one in Queen Street.

  There’s two in Queen Street?

  I think it was the big yin.

  Ye think it was the big yin.

  Aye.

  Ye were in the big betting shop in Queen Street and ye backed a few winners, favourites, and ye dont remember any of their names.

  I think one of them was a Prince something or other, Prince Regent; something like that.

  Was the Leg with ye?

  Naw I met him after, when I came out.

  And did ye tell him ye had bet winners?

  Probably, cannay remember. Depends.

  On what?

  Sammy shrugged.

  So what about this Billy somebody and Tam somebody, did ye tell them?

  Naw, doubt it.

  It wasnay important?

  No really.

  And was this Billy somebody and Tam somebody, were they together or were they separate?

  What?

  When ye met them, were they together?

  No that I remember.

  So who did ye meet first?

  I think it was the guy Billy but maybe it was Tam.

  What pub?

  Aw christ now ye’re talking, we were hitting them.

  What was the first one ye hit?

  I think it was Campbell’s.

  Campbell’s! That isnay Queen Street. It’s a long fucking walk from there to Campbell’s I mean if ye’re wanting a pint and ye’re in Queen Street, ye’re no gony walk all that distance. But you did?

  I quite like the pub.

  How?

  I just do.

  Aye but I would have thought if ye were a bevy-merchant, I would have thought it’d be a quick swallow, the quicker the better, so the first pub or else the second. Especially with all that poppy in yer pocket.

  …

  Eh?

  Customer declines to answer.

  No really.

  No really what?

  It just depends.

  And ye think that was where ye met these two guys?

  Probably but I’m no sure.

  Ye’re no sure?

  No totally.

  So how much did ye win?

  Enough.

  How much?

  A hunner and twenty.

  A hunner and twenty. For a guy on Community Gratuities that’s a fair wee turn Sammy boy but you dont even seem impressed. Course you’ve been around, I was forgetting.

  Yeh he’s done his time this man we shouldnt underestimate him, he’s got a reputation. A mean man in a corner.

  Big time, yeh. The interesting thing is – I’m talking about for an ordinary guy like me – it’s how he walks into this betting shop and backs all these winners and then just calls it a day. Now I find that interesting. Cause it means he’s no a mug.

  Well I’m not a gambling man serjeant.

  Yeh but I am ye see and what it means is he knows when to stop. So just for the record: here ye have a guy with the kind of form he has, and he’s no a mug when it comes to punting; now he walks into a betting shop and wins a few quid on a bunch of horses he says he doesnay know the names of; and then he calls it a day roundabout three o’clock on a Friday afternoon, when there’s still all sorts of racing left. Plus he’s done it in one of two betting shops in Queen Street and they’re gony have a record of the day’s transactions unless they’re working flankers for tax-purposes, and yer man here, well, a bright guy like him, he’s bound to know that, he’s bound to know these betting receipts are gony be lying there if anybody wants to go and check… Then he walked half a mile for a drink when there was pubs on every corner along the route. Eh Sammy? Is that about right? what I’m saying.

  Yep.

  Yep! What does that mean? Yep!

  It means yes.

  It means yes, mmhh. Ye’re still sticking to the betting shop story?

  I sometimes go into pass the time. Especially if the weather’s bad.

  Ah, advancing information; note that. And then, well, and then he meets with Mister Donaghue otherwise known as the Leg, and the strange thing here is how Mister Donaghue doesnt recollect any Billys and he doesnt recollect any hawkers.

  …

  Did you hear that Mister Samuels?

  I didnay know he was talking to me.

  Chuckle chuckle.

  But what Mister Donaghue does remember is, that ye met a guy ye were previously acquainted with. Is that no funny?

  I dont know.

  Ye dont know?

  I’ve already telt ye what happened, the way I remember it, it’s on yer computer.

  Yeh it is on the computer, what you’ve said and what your drinking b
uddy has said. He’s got no recollection of any Billy somebodys. No Billys at all in fact. That’s what he said to us. In fact it’s what he didnt say to us, he said other things to us but Billy was not one of them. And neither was the hawker – what did you call him?

  Tam Roberts.

  Tam Roberts, the political, that’s correct.

  …

  Eh?

  It’s you the serjeant’s talking to Mister Samuels.

  Sorry.

  …

  Well?

  What?

  Tam Roberts, he’s a political?

  What d’ye mean?

  Ye’re saying he’s a political?

  Sammy smiled.

  What then?

  I didnay say that.

  Aw, must’ve been somebody else.

  …

  So what did ye say?

  I didnay say he was a political.

  We’re no asking what ye didnay say, it’s what ye did say, that’s what we want to know.

  …

  Customer declines to comment.

  I’m no declining to comment I’m just trying to remember what it was I said, I think I said he was a hawker. I know he works down the market.

  What doing?

  Sammy shrugged. Buying and selling.

  Buying and selling what?

  Bits and pieces.

  And you just bumped into him with all that money in yer pocket?

  That’s right.

  Ye’re sure about that?

  Aye…well, I mean, apart from what I says, I was bevied, I could be wrong, but I dont think so, no about this.

  So the Leg’s wrong?

  What about?

  Dont be too clever Sammy.

  Look I’m no trying to be clever I’m just trying to get it straight, even for my own head I mean christ I dont like having blank-outs. What I’m saying is I was half-cut and my mind wasnay concentrating, cause I was worried, upset, cause I’d had a row with my girlfriend, a tiff, more than a tiff. Probably there was a lot of people I met, I dont know, I cannay mind. I’m no saying the Leg’s wrong. But maybe he is. Or else maybe we’re both right but it was just differences in time or something. We were both steaming, know what I mean, we were hitting it, cause of that extra dough I had christ I was just filling up the glasses man that’s what I was doing, so who knows, who know, being honest, I couldnay tell ye who I saw and who I never saw. That’s what I’m saying, I blanked out. Then I was captured by yous guys.

  On Sunday morning.

  On Sunday morning, that’s right, it’s all down there. Sammy sighed; he moved his shoulders in a circle to work some of the stiffness out; he wriggled his wrists. He sighed again.