by James Kelman
Aye da.
Okay, so away yez go then and I’ll see yez later; mind now I’m gony be swanning it up.
He unslung the bag down between his feet and trapped the stick under his left arm, then he rolled a cigarette. But he didnt smoke it; he waited a moment then got the shades on, he lifted the bag, tapped his way to the taxi rank.
He gave the housing scheme where Peter lived as the destination. The truth is if he didnay need the money he wouldnay have been fucking going here at all. He had nay choice but. He definitely didnay. Plus the fact who likes taking dough off their weans. Nay cunt. If it has to be done but it has to be done; end of story; that’s that; so fair enough; he leaned forward and said to the driver: Heh mate know the Swan Inn? will ye take me there?
He couldnay mind the name of that other boozer. No that it mattered, no at this stage. He leaned forward again: Alright if I smoke?
Eh naw, no really – sorry.
Aw it’s nay sweat, nay sweat, it’s no a problem… Sammy sniffed and sat back, stuck the fag in his pocket. Fucking feet man they were nipping, he felt like taking off the shoes. Clatty efforts as well, ye could smell them. That was one thing he was gony have to do, nay danger, soon as he had a few bob the gether, a pair of decent shoes. There was a lot of things. Nay point thinking about it; no the now; just nay fucking point man know what I’m saying, nay point.
He kept on the shades when he got off the taxi, made it into the pub. It seemed like it was busy and people were stepping out the road to let him through. At the bar he got the fag lighted, then waited. He kept the bag on his shoulder. People were standing next to him. No that that was how he kept it on his shoulder. He wasnay worred about that, just it was less of a problem.
A long time since he had been in this place man a long time. Fuck sake. Even when he dropped Peter off after visits, he just got back to the city as soon as possible.
Bad memories. Good memories but bad memories.
Maybe it was cause he was blind, maybe that was how it was taking so long, cause he couldnay catch nay cunt’s eye so he was having to wait to get spotted christ almighty he had the fucking shades on and the white stick man what more did they need. He sighed and shifted position, took a last drag on the fag then let it fall to the floor. Mind you it was aye a busy pub. It had that reputation. He cleared his throat and said: Pint of lager please!
He sniffed and ran his hand under the strap of the shoulder bag.
Pint of lager? said a young guy.
Aye eh a pint of lager.
…
So that was that and fuck all else so ye didnay even know if he was away to get it or was he just gony give ye a fucking body-swerve in favour of some regular bastard that was in every night of the week, one of his mates or something, irritating behaviour; irritating behaviour; ye just didnay let it worry ye; cause there was nay point; nay point. There was more important things.
Once he had been served it and got his change back he said: Is there a phone?
Aye at the end of the bar.
Do I go right or left?
Left.
Thank you, very very much: Sammy sniffed; he lifted the pint, swigged a good mouthful then went left.
When he got to the wall he felt for the bar and put down the pint, and he stood there.
A minute later a guy said: Ye want a seat?
Aye mate I wouldnay mind… Sammy heard a stool getting shifted and he reached for it and patted it. Ta, he said. Heh could ye do me a favour, could ye get me direct enquiries on the phone?
Aye nay bother what number?
Central Station. Passenger information.
Right mate.
The guy had moved in to dial, then he said: Want me to phone the station for ye?
Aye christ that’d be good.
I’ll hand ye it ower once I get through.
Aye great, ta.
What ye wanting anyway is it a train time?
Aye, aye Birmingham. Just the last yin, whenever.
Right ye are.
Hope to christ I’ve no missed it otherwise it’s the morrow morning!
Ah we’ll see, we’ll see.
Sammy heard him redialling and he went into his jeans’ pocket, took out some smash: Heh mate take a couple of ten pences or a twenty or something.
It’s okay.
Naw, thanks, come on…
Sammy felt him digging out a couple of coins. Then it was the number from direct enquiries and he was dialling it.
Engaged; I’ll try again… The guy tried a couple of times then chucked it: I’ll give it another go in a wee minute, he said: Here… And he gave Sammy back the money.
Ta anyway. Sammy was up on the stool with the bag balanced on his knees. He lifted the pint and drank. Then he rolled a smoke. Good omens everywhere. It didnay matter about the bus station, he would have phoned it if it was him but it didnay matter, better this way; he would just go down and get the first one out; wherever; the more south the better christ he was looking forward to breakfast man he was fucking starving and it was gony be a long day the morrow, that was a certainty. Never mind.
It was a good pint of lager in here too, he had forgot about that. He would have a second but no a third. Which had the bad habit of giving ye the taste. And he wasnay wanting the taste, cause it wasnay a night for nonsense.
Da.
Right…
See ye outside…
Right… Sammy sniffed, he sat where he was and swirled the glass to test how much lager was left; a fair wee bit. He placed it on the counter and stood down from the stool. I’m coming back in a minute, he said to whoever was standing next to him. He slung the bag ower his shoulder and tapped on with the stick. Peter hadnay waited. Probably they wouldnay have let him cause he was under-age, obviously. He was waiting outside in the doorway.
Okay da?
That was quick, said Sammy.
Aye well cause ye’re in a hurry.
Come on we’ll just move on a wee bit… Keith here? Sammy was already walking.
Aye.
Alright Mister Samuels?
Aye son nay bother nay bother. Just tell us when it’s safe Peter, no too far cause I’m gony go back and finish that pint, I’ll phone for a minicab while I’m at it. What about here?
Aye da it’s fine, there’s naybody.
Sammy had stopped. Peter handed him an envelope and he gave him it back immediately. Just open it son.
Peter did it and gave him the wad; Sammy folded it into his jeans’ pocket.
Da, is it Buchanan Street ye’re heading?
Aye.
Where is it ye’re going?
England. In fact I might try for a train instead of a bus, just whatever’s available. Sammy adjusted the shoulder strap. Whatever’s available I’ll be on it: okay? Eh?
Aye.
So it’s no a problem. Eh? it’s no a problem.
Da could I see ye off?
Nah son it’s no on; come here; give us yer hand… Sammy reached for it and shook it. The worst about all this is saying cheerio to the likes of yerself, but what can ye do, ye’ve got to batter on, know what I’m saying, ye’ve got to batter on. Where’s yer mate…?
Here.
Sammy shook hands with him. Okay son, he said, well done; nice meeting ye. All the best.
He turned to Peter again and clapped his shoulder. Alright now? so chop chop, comprende? away ye go. That’s how there’s nay cuddles and all that, cause it’s no gony be long. And I’m gony be writing at the end of the week, just as soon as I get sorted out; and then I’ll give ye an address where you can write back cause I’ll be expecting ye to, ye listening? I’ll be expecting ye to write back. Okay? Ye’re some kid now take it easy. So give us yer hand for another shake.
Okay then that’s us, I’ll see ye soon so away ye go. Sammy grinned.
He waited on the pavement once they had said cheerio. Then he tapped his way back to the pub doorway and stood inside. A hackney cab; unmistakeable. When the sound died away he
fixed the shades on his nose and stepped out onto the pavement. It wasnay long till the next yin. He tapped forwards, waving his stick in the air. It was for hire, he heard it pulling in then the squeaky brakes. The driver had opened the door. Sammy slung in the bag and stepped inside, then the door slammed shut and that was him, out of sight.
1994: LITERARY EVENTS
* * *
9 March – Charles Bukowski dies (b. 1920)
April – Pulitzer Prize for Fiction announced:
The Shipping News – E. Annie Proulx
September – Booker Prize shortlist announced:
Reef – Romesh Gunesekera
Paradise – Abdulrazak Gurnah
The Folding Star – Alan Hollinghurst
How Late it Was, How Late – James Kelman
Beside the Ocean of Time – George Mackay Brown
Knowledge of Angels – Jill Paton Walsh
October – Booker Prize winner announced:
How Late it Was, How Late by James Kelman
James Kelman is the first Scot to win the prize.
October – Nobel Prize for Literature goes to Kenzaburo Oe
(Japan)
24 December – John Osborne dies (b. 1929)
The biggest selling hardback fiction title in the USA is
The Chamber by John Grisham. The biggest selling hardback non-fiction title of the year is In the Kitchen with Rosie by Rosie Daley
Other bestselling titles:
The Celestine Prophecy by James Redfield
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt
Zlata’s Diary by Zlata Filipovic
Debt of Honor by Tom Clancy
Bravo Two Zero by Andy McNab
1994: WORLD EVENTS
* * *
12 March – The Church of England ordains its first female vicars
21 March – Schindler’s List wins seven Oscars, including
Best Picture and Best Director (Spielberg)
April – The Rwandan Genocide occurs. The Red Cross estimates that hundreds of thousands of Tutsis were killed
5 April – Kurt Cobain, lead singer and guitarist for Nirvana commits suicide
27 April – South Africa holds its first fully multi-racial elections, marking the end of apartheid
1 May – Three-time Formula One world champion Ayrton Senna is killed in an accident during the San Marino Grand Prix
6 May – The Channel Tunnel opens between England and France
10 May – Nelson Mandela is inaugurated as South African president
17 July – Brazil wins the 1994 FIFA World Cup, defeating
Italy 3–2 in penalties (full time 0-0)
28 September – The car ferry MS Estonia sinks in the Baltic Sea, killing 852
The Lion King is the highest grossing film of the year; the UK’s biggest selling single of the year is Love Is All Around Us by Wet Wet Wet; the biggest selling album of the year is Cross Roads by Bon Jovi
Deaths:
Henry Mancini, composer (b. 1924)
Karl Popper, philosopher (b. 1902)
John Smith, leader of the Labour Party (b. 1938)
Acknowledgements
Permission to quote the following copyright material is gratefully acknowledged:
‘Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down’, words and music by Kris Kristofferson, copyright © 1969 Combine Music Corp., USA, reproduced by permission of EMI Songs Ltd, London WC2H 0EA, and EMI Music Publishing New York. ‘Do the Best You Can (With What You’ve Got)’, words and music by Buddy Blackman and Jerry Salley, copyright © 1988 Cholampy Music/EMI Blackwood Music Inc., USA, reproduced by permission of EMI Songs Ltd, London WC2H 0EA, and EMI Music Publishing New York. ‘A Good Year for the Roses’, words and music by Jerry Chestnut, copyright © 1970 Tree Pub Co. Inc., USA, reproduced by permission of EMI Music Publishing Ltd, London WC2H 0EA, and Tree Publishing Co. Inc. ‘Loving Her Was Easier (Than Anything I’ll Ever do Again)’, words and music by Kris Kristofferson, copyright © 1971 Combine Music Corp., USA, reproduced by permission of EMI Songs Ltd, London WC2H 0EA, and EMI Music Publishing New York. ‘Always on my Mind’, words and music by John Christopher, Mark James and Wayne Thompson, copyright © 1971 Rose Bridge Music/Screen Gems-EMI Music Inc., USA, reproduced by permission of Screen Gems-EMI Music Ltd, London WC2H 0EA, and EMI Music Publishing New York. ‘Dust Pneumonia Blues’ by Woody Guthrie, copyright © 1963 Ludlow Music Inc., New York, used by permission of TRO Essex Music Ltd, London SW10 0SZ. ‘Apartment No. 9’ by Johnny Paycheck and Bobby Austin, published by Mayhew Music Co. Ltd, used by permission of Kassner Associated Publishers Ltd, London EC1R 0JH. ‘Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues’ by Bob Dylan, copyright © 1966 Dwarf Music/Sony Music Publishing. ‘Idiot Wind’ by Bob Dylan, copyright © 1974 Ram’s Horn Music/Sony Music Publishing. ‘If You See Her Say Hello’ by Bob Dylan, copyright © 1974 Ram’s Horn Music/Sony Music Publishing. ‘Angels Flying Too Close to the Ground’ by Willie Nelson used by permission of Windswept Pacific Music Ltd. ‘Blue Eyes Cryin’ in the Rain’ by Fred Rose, copyright © 1945, 1973, used by permission of Campbell Connelly & Co. Ltd, London W1V 5TZ and Milene Music Inc, USA.
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