How Late It Was How Late

by James Kelman

  Aye eh…

  Naw but so that’s how I’ll need to send somebody else, if I cannay make it. But dont worry, ye’ll be able to trust them.

  Sammy shrugged.

  Grin and bear it. We dont have access to full radiological equipment, sorry.

  Sammy nodded.

  I was being funny.

  Right…

  That’s me, I’m off.

  Eh

  Last question afore I go and dont take it personal: d’ye think she’ll come back? yer lady-friend?

  Aye.

  How?

  Cause.

  Cause what?

  Cause nothing.

  Fair enough Sammy that’s acceptable in relationships, the one thing where anything’s possible. Understand me now I’m no a miracle worker and I’m no a soothsayer; I dont have a magic crystal ball and I dont pull rabbits out of top hats.

  …

  I’ve got to start doing my job properly. I’m at the door.

  Sammy frowned, he clenched his fists, then he relaxed, then got up off the stool.

  I’m at the door.

  Sammy turned.

  I’ll just let myself out.

  Sammy was groping forwards, feeling for the door. He heard Ally doing the chubb double-throw then the outside door was open.

  See ye later then cheerio!

  Hang on a minute…

  Nay time.

  The outside door closed. Sammy arrived and stood beside it. He started twiddling with the bristles under his chin, then moved back into the kitchen. He lifted the kettle to put more water on but there was still water in it and it was hot. The clean dishes were stacked on the draining board, and the pots, the knives and forks. It was a help.

  There were other things right enough needed doing. Just he was a bit tired. Another coffee maybe. Double-lock the door. He did that immediately. Then he stood by the kitchen sink, waited for the water to boil. Ally would be walking out from the building about now, cutting down and across the concrete square, passing the shops, then somewhere, he would go somewhere. Ye wondered where. Where he would go.

  The water boiled. He took the cup of coffee ben the living-room and sat on the settee. He sat there for a long while before remembering he could shove on the radio or the cassette recorder but as soon as he had remembered the thought went out his head; later he remembered it again but for some reason he had already turned on the telly. A few minutes later he turned it off, sat with his eyelids closed. He could have hit the sack for a couple of hours, it was gony be a long day and he needed his strength. He could maybe just doze on the settee right enough; it was alright here, comfy; this silence as well, no even a clock ticking; nay point winding the clock, no unless ye could work out some way of counting the ticks, the one ye began with and then ended with, it was useless, they all sounded the same, it just wasnay on, it was stupit, depressing as well cause all it done was remind ye of the state ye were in, the way ye were I mean if it wasnay for the buzzing in yer ears there would have been nay sounds at all, ye would be as well being a torso, an upper trunk just; ye could imagine it, the main worry would be grub, getting it down ye; plus the other body operations, the ablutions, yer toilettes; cause ye would still need a slash so that was a problem; what would ye do in a situation like that, ye would have to use a nappy; then if ye had nay hands, how would ye wrap it round yerself; it would be back to relying on other people again; plus getting ye the grub, it would be down to them, they would maybe set ye up as a beggar, give ye a pitch outside a chip shop; just this body, this torso, on a wee bogey like that auld beggar woman he once saw dragging herself about, pushing herself along, patacaking the ground with her hands to keep the wheels rolling; the only thing ye would worry about was staying alive, except for yer brains, that would be a worry cause they would still be there so ye would be forced to think, about the state ye were in for one thing, so ye would wind up looking for ways to be dead, but that would be a problem as well cause ye couldnay do nothing except maybe roll yerself out onto the main road and get run ower by a bus, or else starve yerself, or stop yerself breathing like that guy in some story Sammy read or was it a guy in the poky maybe it was a guy in the poky, he managed to stop himself breathing and just fucking that was that; so even for an upper trunk, ye could still do yerself in, if ye wanted, ye would find ways, ways only known to folk in that exceptional circumstance. The average person wouldnay know cause they wouldnay know – the circumstance; naybody would know it, except yerself and them other yins that had formed yer self-help society, then the ones ye got yer support off for yer lobbies, the MPs or whatever, the famous names. Naybody would know yer possibilities; except yerself and them like ye, the totally dysfuntional; except ye wouldnay be totally dysfunctional else ye would be dead so it would have to be the almost totally dysfunctional; yez would all meet to discuss it at yer meeting place, getting yer living conditions improved, yer quality of life, start yer petitions to parliament and the town council and sending yer man to Brussels although ye would have to post the cunt if it was a torso, except if ye couldnay talk and ye couldnay see then how could ye set out yer wants to the foreign delegates cause ye would be fuckt, even having yer wee discussion with the members, yez would all be fuckt, yez wouldnay even know yez were there, except listening for sounds; sounds of scuffling and breathing and sniffing and muttering, sneezes and coughs, which ye couldnay hear if ye were deaf, ye would need folk to listen for ye and translate, to represent ye, yer interests, except ye couldnay tell them what yer interests were so they would just have to guess, what it was ye wanted, if ye wanted something, they would have to guess it.

  He thought he heard a sound. Maybe it was. He was gony leave now anyway, he had to do it. The dough. It didnay matter, he was just having to get to fuck, otherwise he was beat, cause he was surrounded, surrounded already; he was, he was surrounded already; it had happened; so it was a question of when, when he did it, when he got out, cause he had to get out, so that was how he was getting to fuck, cause he had to. He would just pack what he could. Plus the shirts; some of them. He would fill the suitcase. Then the stick, a hand free for it. It was just he was tired; he was. How come he was so tired man how tired he was, just tired, it filled yer head, yer mind, it took ower. Then cause it was late; that didnay help, christ it didnay, ye thought it would but it didnay, no really, no when it happens, if ye’re no up to it, if ye’re tired out and drained, all yer resources

  even then

  what’s so funny but never mind anything else, what’s so funny, it’s how ye still fuck things up, ye can aye manage that, that’s the main thing, how ye aye find a way for that; Helen had seen it. She had. She had seen it. Not only how he had fuckt things up in the past but how he was gony fuck them up in the future, that was what she had seen. Fucking plain as the nose on yer face, she had seen right through him. It’s funny how people do that; all kinds of people. Ye wind up with naywhere to go,

  backed into the corner, held up there in full view, and ye’re exhausted, ye dont want to be held up there in full view but fuck sake man what chance ye got ye’re in trouble, ye’re bang in trouble man deep shit, know what I’m saying, fuck sake, what do ye do, what do ye fucking do! ye move, ye fucking move, ye get off yer fucking mark, offski, ye just fucking

  get to fuck man know what I mean just get to fuck, out, off, gone – cause this time he really was fuckt, Sammy, yer man, finito; comprende? fuckt. Nay going back. Nay hanging about to see what happened was she gony come fucking home for christ sake what was the point of that man there was nayn, nay fucking point, in or out, the money’s down and the last card’s left the deck; go through it stage by stage, pointless, every last detail, pointless, cause this time ye’ve really fuckt it, all on the last fucking card and it’s been turned and it’s fucking lying there so that is fucking that it’s that so fuck off and get to fuck man fold yer hand, everything ye’ve got’s showing, capisto, it’s out there in full view man so fold, ye’re out the game, okay? okay.

  Auld
Jackie.

  This time could be the last time.

  The window. Sammy opened it. He breathed deep. Wind and pelting rain. No the best of times to hit the road. Ye blunder on but ye blunder on. That’s what ye do. What else is there man know what I’m talking about what else is there? fuck the suicide rates and statistics, Sammy was never a huffy bastard, that’s one thing. Know what he felt like? A can of fucking superlager. Aye no danger. He had a drouth, a drouth. Know what that means it means he’s fucking thirsty. Fuck yer coffee and fuck yer tea and fuck yer fucking milk if ye’re fucking lucky enough to fucking have fucking any of the fucking stuff man know what I’m saying. Plus nay tobacco.

  True. He got the packet and felt about inside; hardly enough for one smoke. So he would have to go out and buy some more, another half ounce. He was definitely gony chuck smoking but the time to do it wasnay now it was when his head was clear, when he was on the fucking bus, he would fling the remainder out the window. Cause when he left the house the next time that was him, he was off and running. So there ye are. So okay, so that was that now out in the open. The bullshit was at an end. Ye make yer decision, whatever it is, whatever ye decide, what ye’re gony do, what ye’ve decided to do

  Sammy made this funny groaning noise and stuck his fingers in his ears, swung his legs onto the settee and stretched out.

  One thing anyway; they would find her, they would find her now. Now they had got going they would find her. And that had to be good. At least he would know the score. Any mystery, if there was any mystery – I mean that’s their fucking job man solving fucking mysteries.

  A chinking noise. Sounded like the letterbox. Somebody keeking through; a fucking sodjer probably, else a deadhead junkie bastard.

  Sammy smiled, he raised himself up and called: Hullo ya fucking bampot! How are you this bright and early morning! Is yer wee birdies fucking chirping! He laughed. Then turned onto his side, facing into the back of the settee, his head resting on the arm. More of a snigger than a laugh – in fact it wasnay even close to a laugh; it wasnay even a snigger it was a fucking snivel, it was a snivel; that was what he was reduced to man snivelling. Fuck it. At least he was alive, he was alive. He could do anything he liked. As long as it was quick. But in saying quick ye also had to plan, nay point charging in with the head down.

  So okay, things werenay very good of course but I mean all ye do is push ahead, ye push ahead. There was the Community Provision; he was gony get word of a start soon; they would get him out with the hod on some fucking scaffolding, wheeling a barrow, they would have him walking the plank, dirty bastards, all’s fair in love and war. Cause while the case was pending he would have to carry on as if he was fully operational, able-bodied. Until he was re-registered. Cause they wouldnay re-register him dysfunctional, that was as good as an admittance. So that was him man blundering about on a fucking building site ye’re not on, ye kidding! Guys like Ally, they made ye smile, they really did; Sammy had met them for years, inside and outside. Play the game and do them in; that was the motto; get yer whack while the going’s good. Philadelphia lawyers. Fucking eedjits man know what I’m saying, a joke’s a joke. Okay, Sammy wouldnay say he knew better, he just knew from different experiences. These optimistic cunts.

  Brick walls, brick walls.

  Sammy should have been a brickie. He could have done it nay bother. Ye see some of the cunts he used to labour to!

  Maybe if the eyes cleared up. If he got to England out the road. And just relaxed, let the body heal. If he could get some papers the gether. A few quid would do it. There was a wee bit of business; he could pull it through – just that few bob, if he had that upfront, he needed that upfront money, that was how he had to take the shirts; that was how that fucking silly bastard Tam – nay harm to the guy but ye wondered how he could be so fucking stupit. Okay. There were things

  They just went out yer head. Where do they go to? A world of lost thoughts and dreams and

  fuck knows what.

  It’s just how they suffocate ye; all their fucking protocols and procedures, all designed to stop ye breathing, to grind ye to a halt; ye’ve no to wander and ye’ve no to breathe, ye’ve no to open yer mouth; ye’re to keep in line and dont move a muscle: just fucking stand there till ye’re telt different. Heh you I’ll tell ye when to move; okay! and dont let me see ye even breathe ya fucking doughball, thirty seconds and ye’ve had twenty

  Helen didnay know. She thought she did but she didnay. She was like Ally. So there ye are: she didnay think the same as her man she thought like the guy that was fucking repping him, know what I’m saying, that was the crack, she thought the same way as Sammy’s rep but no like Sammy, like him himself.

  It’s funny, what ye have to own up to, ye’ve got to admit it to yerself, that they all thought he was stupit. They did. It didnay matter it was him had all the experience; in their eyes he was a halfwit. A nice yin that. It cheered ye up. When ye were feeling down, it cheered ye up, they all thought ye were a fucking eedjit. Okay. But if Jackie Milligan was to walk in the door this very minute and go: D’ye want to earn a few quid? then Sammy would go, Yeh mate no problem, too easy, all points south, north, wherever, who gives a fuck, Sammy would be there, nay danger about that: fuck them, the fucking lot of them. Ye want me? Well come and get me!

  He flexed his wrists, there was an ache at both joints. He wished he could see them. Maybe he had been lying on them. They would have red marks. Ye couldnay even see yer body. The last time he had seen it

  Christ when was that? he couldnay remember. What did it matter. It was now he couldnay see, that was what was important. He got up and stuck on a cassette.

  Auld George Jones; so what man go and fuck yerself.

  It’s true but the last time he had seen himself was afore Helen took a walk, afore he went out to blag the leather jackets. In fact the last time he saw himself was in one of these full-length mirrors in the fucking clothes shop! There ye are man poetry in motion.

  The Leg but, he would still be lying in the poky. They had nay need to let him go so they wouldnay, he would still be in there, wondering what had hit him. Sammy had hit him. Well that was the bullshit they would fill his head with. Okay. Ach it wasnay fair but know what I mean, the auld Leg man he was harmless.

  The thing that was missing was trust. That was the bad thing about it. Irritating behaviour. Tam knew Sammy long enough to know better. It should have been took for granted. If he could have gave him the wire he would have gave him the wire; end of story – the Leg wouldnay have to be telt. But there ye are, Tam was a guy that handled goods. Sometimes ye had to wonder about that, the mentality. It was a wee thing but Sammy had thought about it afore; dealers and thieves, ye pays yer money.

  Fuck off, that kind of thing’s rubbish; Tam was a good guy.

  Divide and conquer right enough. That was like Charlie, the way Sammy’s head had been going, getting angry at him, as if he had something to do with it. And he didnay have. Nayn of it. It was fuck all to with him. It was all down to Sammy; every fucking last fucking thing man know what I mean know what I fucking mean it was down to him, Sammy, Sammy himself man that was who it was down to, him, nay other cunt, all this fucking crap man it was his and nay other cunt’s, fucking his.

  Sammy shook his head, he chuckled. Amazing how it got ye, sitting by yerself, how angry ye could get.

  It was true enough but, how ye wound up blaming every cunt except the ones ye should blame. And it was a move too; the sodjers knew they were doing it, getting ye into that kind of state, it was all premeditated manoeuvrings, know what I’m saying, these dirty bastards, it had fuck all to do with Charlie. Ye had to get yer head round that. If he had thought there was something to tell Sammy then he would have telt him. Simple as that.

  This was Sammy’s business. Ye play yer own hand. The cards fall and ye figure them out. Ye watch, ye take notes. Most of the time ye get fuckt. Most of the time

  most of the time

  Then the wee times ye dont, and it
’s the wee times ye look for. This was one of them. It made ye feel good; ye cannay describe it, having that card in the hole, when ye fucking know it man when ye know it. Never underestimate the opposition. The sodjers thought they had him figured but they didnay.

  Alright so it would have been nice to see Helen, just to let her know the score. So he would just send her a letter, once he got settled in. Then it was down to her; either she went with him or she didnay. That was fair enough. He was just gony have to be honest, tell her the whole truth and nothing but. Cause that was the problem, he hadnay got the message across, he telt her a tale and it went wrong. Who knows how women think; he didnay. Same with the ex-wife, a fucking disaster. But it wasnay all his fault. People try to stop ye, stop ye doing things. They dont allow ye to live. But ye’ve got to live. If ye cannay live ye’re as well dead. What else can ye do? It would be good if somebody telt ye. What way ye were supposed to live. They dont fucking tell ye that but they’ve got nay answers there man, no to that yin, that fucking question, know what I’m saying, it’s just big silences, that’s what ye fucking get, big silences. How no to live. That’s all they tell ye. Fuck them all. The bottom line: ye’re on yer tod. Aye well Sammy was used to that, he was fucking used to it. Some things stay the same. They dont change.

  It’s you. They dont change but you have to. That’s the fucking crack. It’s back to yerself. So okay. Fair enough.

  Loneliness surrounds me

  without your arms around me

  When everybody’s gone and you’re alone. That was what ye thought about, when they were all away, and you were left, you and naybody else. What happens then is that ye move.

  So okay. He was a blind bastard. Right then. That stage ye just go, Fuck it, cause what else is there? nothing, there’s fuck all. Sammy had reached that stage. A while ago. It just hadnay dawned on him. No till now. He smiled. Fucking weird. There ye go but!