The Busconductor Hines (34 page)

I say things that arent good.

You say things that are bloody . . . She halted, shaking her head again.

I didnt mean it; what I said.

O God.

Honest.

If you really feel that way then you should go, you should just bloody go.

Where to? He grinned. There's nowhere I want to go. I want to stay here, in this bloody dump. I want to stay here.

Why do I have to bloody cry. She sniffed then blew her nose.

You have to cry because – I dont know.

She sighed and looked at him.

The grub's on the plate.

I wont be able to swallow for a bloody hour.

He chuckled.

Rab . . .

He glanced at her.

What're we going to do?

That's what I was wanting to ask you. He smiled; he shook his head. I dont know, christ, I dont know.

Should I see about going full-time?

No yet – no unless you want to.

I dont really want to.

Dont then, there's no need.

But what if you cant get a job?

He shrugged. After a moment he said, I'll be getting broo money; it'll no be that bad.

She didnt reply.

Christ Sandra, the wages I've been lifting . . . be better off.

Maybe I should see about it then, about going full-time.

If you like.

O God.

Naw I mean honest, honest Sandra, if you want to go full-time then go full-time. I'm just saying I dont think it'll be necessary; honest, that's all, that's all I mean.

O God . . . she shook her head then sighed.

It's this land of the regal brits! its neither here nor there. He sat round to face her, grinning. I've been trying to tell you that for years!

She smiled.

Naw, he said, honest – honest Sandra you want to have seen it; terrible, no kidding ye, terrible, really bad, really bad – that's how I jacked it; poor auld Sammy, the shop steward, bad; fucking McGilvaray, the way he belittled him, terrible; jesus christ. One thing's for sure, he wouldnt've done it with Willie. Willie'll make a good shop steward. They'll probably make him an inspector! They dont bother making Sammy an inspector – he's no a danger you see; they only make union men inspectors if they're
dangerous. Poor auld fucking Sammy. And he's no a bad shop steward either; that's the thing. Hines grinned. He doesnt like me. Well he doesnt dislike me. What I mean is I dont scare him. I think Willie does; I think Willie scares him – probably because he's after his job. Naw . . . Hh; I dont know, I dont fucking know . . .

He was sitting forwards, facing into the electric fire; he leaned his elbows on his knees.

What actually happened Rab?

What actually happened. Hh; nothing. Nothing at all. A load of rubbish. He smiled, I blew it. Strike or not strike and I plumped for the latter. Peculiar, most peculiar. Perplexing in fact, very perplexing; a very perplexing kettle of coconuts. He snorted then smiled; he shifted, to look at her. D'you know what I wonder? I wonder if a cunt like McGilvaray's more scared of somebody like Willie. Naw I mean – christ, he's got more fucking reason!

In what way?

Well . . . he shook his head. Naw, just . . . He shook his head again; and he stared back at the fire. He got up and walked over to plug it in, then switched it on. There was a crackling, tinny sound as the electric bar began to heat. He sat back down and put his arm round her; she leaned her head on his chest. Naw, he said, I know it's daft I mean

The door had opened very suddenly. Paul; he paused in the doorway, and then he walked to his cot and peered into it.

I'm glad you've left, whispered Sandra.

So am I. The trouble is the driving: I really wanted that bloody licence.

Och!

Aye I know but . . .

You can get it somewhere else.

Where? there isnt anywhere else – no unless it's an ordinary fucking driving school and they cost a fortune.

But would it make that much of a difference for getting a job?

Eh . . . Hh; probably no, but at least you could go places. He snorted then chuckled.

She slapped him on the chest: I saw your present today.

What was it?

I'm not telling you.

D'you wear it or play with it?

A bit of both.

A bit of both! Sounds like one of your American fucking doughnuts!

They laughed briefly. Paul came across; he leaned on Sandra's thighs and said, I ate everything up.

Mine as well I hope! She laughed again and pulled him up onto her lap.

Heh wait a minute! Bloody cheek – slaving over a hot bloody oven all day and this is the thanks I get! He jumped to his feet and marched to the windows crying, That's it now, that is really it, the last straw, the last fucking straw and no mistake; spend half your life cooking meals and look what happens, bloody mountains out of molehills! No wonder the country's in the state it is!

He marched back to the settee; and he knelt down on the floor in front of them. Listen, he said; how d'you fancy Australia? land of the long hot summer. Seriously, d'you fancy it? I could write to that brother of mine . . . Naw, I'm being serious.

Well for a start, you've not got his address.

My Uncle then. Hines shrugged. I'm being serious Sandra.

You're being serious . . . She was looking at him. And when he nodded she also nodded. Maybe.

Maybe . . . he scratched his head. Maybe . . . He stood up. That's good; maybe. Maybe'll do.

There were showers in the washroom but they only supplied cold water. Hot water was supplied by tap at each of the sinks which were all situated on the floor. When he had rinsed the soap off himself he told Paul to wait there, and to make sure he washed properly. He crossed to the rear wall and switched on a shower, gradually moving from the outside of the spray to directly beneath the jet, but only for an instant before dashing out and through onto the bank of the pool, to dive straight in; he swam the crawl to the deep-end, the breaststroke on the return. Only five other men were in the pool, swimming its length at different speeds, back and forth and back and forth. Hines returned to the deep-end still doing the breaststroke. And touching back into the shallow-end he called Paul from the washroom, and told him to let the dirty water out of his sink.

The water reached to the top of the four steps at the corner of the shallow-end. Hines had walked to there. When Paul arrived he told him to walk down the steps. The boy stooped to fix his hands onto the bank, facing away from the pool towards the washroom; his left foot came to rest on the top step then withdrew as the water lapped onto it. It's cold, he said.

It's not cold at all, come on, give me your hand.

Paul knelt on the edge of the bank with his right knee; his left was over the edge, his foot a couple of inches above the water. He kept his hold on the bank with both hands and lowered his foot onto the step.

That's fine, now just put down your other foot and then you can go to the next step.

Paul did this; he had to twist round, facing away from the washroom, towards the dressing-cubicles, moving his hands out farther from the edge. As the water lapped Hines pushed with it a little, so that it went above the boy's feet and for a moment he rose onto his toes, but then relaxed again, both feet on the step.

Fine now Paul; I want you just to step down onto the next yin. You can give me your hand.

He was peering down under his body, trying to see his feet maybe, or the steps, but his vision was obscured by the edge of the bank.

Naw son you'll have to come closer in.

Dont touch me daddy.

Hines had moved forwards; he stopped. Dont worry. I'm standing back.

Paul was advancing backwards, and shifting sideways a bit; he saw his feet on the step; he raised the left and dipped it off the step, keeping it submerged about a third of the way down to the second.

Fine; fine – just keep it there till you're ready.

He shifted the position of his hands a little and his left foot continued down until his toes touched the step; he was looking at his foot.

That's it, fine.

Paul had settled his foot now and was putting some of his weight onto it. It was an awkward position he had got into, his body side on, left leg twisted while his right bent, and he swivelled, to lean his left elbow on the bank, his other hand moving to the edge, raising his shoulder, easing his right foot up and along.

That's good son that's good.

And he moved his body now, stepping down onto the second
step. The water lapped to his knees, he still faced the dressing-cubicles. Hines stepped to the bank to see his face. You're doing good, he said, but d'you no remember when I took you the last time? You were just a wee boy but christ, aye, you were good – I think you just came right in. I'm sure you did. D'you remember?

Paul nodded slightly.

I'm sure you just jumped in, and I caught you – d'you remember?

I just want to walk down daddy.

Aw I know, I know. Heh . . . Hines grinned: Watch this. You watching? He waited until the boy had turned enough to see, then he stepped back and sank down onto his knees, the water coming to beyond his shoulders. He laughed and ducked his head under, and out, and stood upright, wiping his eyes and shaking his head.

Paul nodded.

Ya wee mug ye! Okay . . . he smiled. Ready for the next step?

He nodded, glancing round and down; and he glanced at the washroom, at the dressing-cubicles and round to see the opposite end of the pool. The attendant was chatting to a man on the bank there and their voices carried; both were smoking.

Okay son, now you've done two steps and there's only another yin to go and then you've got the last.

He had been looking down at his feet; now he glanced to the bar and made to reach it, he gripped it with his left hand, his right turning, keeping a hold on the bank and he was stepping down with his left foot while his right hand came along the edge of the bank in a stuttering movement then off and grabbing for the bar, and as he gripped it his body swung round, his right shoulder bumping against the corner of the tiled wall, he gasped, the water reaching up his back, almost as far as his neck, and his feet walked up the wall; he fixed them against it, his body arching so that the water only reached his waist.

Smashing, that's smashing Paul, well done.

He laughed; it became a loud shudder, then a shiver.

You didnt even do the steps, you just done the bar straight away, that's really great.

A man trotted out from the washroom onto the bank and plunged right into the pool causing a huge splash. Paul was clinging to the bar and leaning into the corner, facing out to the dressing-cubicles. Watch this, said Hines, tapping him on the shoulder. And he climbed out and stood on the bank about a yard from him. Right, he said, count to three; then I'll dive. You've got to count but, right? Right, on you go.

He didnt say anything.

Right Paul now, one two three!

One two three.

Four, cried Hines and he dived. He dived to the bottom and twisted, swimming back to the corner underwater, to come out beside him. He laughed and wiped the water from his eyes, shaking his head.

Dont! Paul glared, jerking away from the splashing, almost cracking his head on the edge of the bank.

Now that's silly, that is silly, you nearly banged your head there.

It's cold.

It is not cold. Well it is right enough, but just a wee bit, compared to that last time, that last time we were here it was colder. Heh is your feet touching the bottom?

No.

No, christ, that's good. Heh, listen . . .

Paul had started shivering loudly and rocking up and down to avoid the lapping of the water.

Fine, that's fine, just keep moving about and you'll soon get warm, that's the way; okay now, I'll just take your hand . . . Okay? ready?

He was staring out into the washroom; an attendant had
come along, carrying a pail, whistling as he walked in the direction of a door marked Private. Hines made to take the boy's hand but he kept his grip on the bar. Okay son, just let it go now . . . He tugged gently.

I dont want to daddy.

Naw it's okay but I'll take you, dont worry, I'll no let you go – heh! you dont think I'm going to let you drown do you! eh? is that what you think! Hines laughed; he applied a bit more pressure to withdraw his hand from the bar. Okay, you ready?

Paul said nothing.

Heh now come on, remember that last time! you jumped right in and I caught you and I was holding you right out christ – you were nearly swimming.

He nodded, maintaining his grip on the bar.

Come on son.

I dont want to daddy.

Ah you'll be fine. And he covered both the boy's hands with his own and took them from the bar, lifting him away from the bank and out some ten yards, holding him waist high to the surface. He told him not to kick so much then held him at arms' length by the hands, and began dipping him down and up a little at a time until eventually the boy wasnt gasping so much. He moved backwards, the momentum carrying Paul close to horizontally; they continued the breadth of the shallow-end and returned, then back and forth.