An Old Pub Near the Angel (12 page)

‘What?’

‘Aye that’s how you haven’t seen me for a while. Doctor’s orders – I’ve been staying out the path of temptation.’

‘What,’ asked Danny, ‘your liver?’

‘Christ knows but he told me to leave off it all together for a bit, especially the whisky.’

‘If I’d known I’d not got you one.’

‘Ach I’d have bought one for myself. What’s the point? Only prolong the agony.’ He grinned.

‘Thought you had a certainty picked out for the Lincoln?’ laughed Danny.

‘Oh I’ll hang about till then, don’t worry about that.’ He drained the last drop of whisky into his beer.

‘Fancy going down to Ayr tomorrow?’

‘Probably be abandoned.’

‘Aye,’ agreed Danny. ‘Fancy a pie and beans?’ He rose from the table.

‘No – not for me. Had some of old Rachel’s soup at half past eight this morning.’ He smiled. ‘Two platefuls.’

‘Jesus Christ!’

‘Aye and if I can take that I can drink anything. Anything at all!’ They both laughed and Sam gave his empty glasses to the younger man. He rolled a cigarette mechanically, deep in thought and unaware of the bar rapidly filling with workers on their lunch hour. ‘Ach!’ The grunt echoed hoarsely up from his boots.

‘What’s up?’

He had not noticed Danny returning. He shrugged. ‘What age are you again?’

‘Thirty!’

‘Time you were married.’ He sipped his beer.

‘Kidding?’

‘Had two kids at your age!’

‘But that was the good old days.’ Danny snorted and took a long swig of lager.

‘Aye I don’t blame you!’ Sam grinned.

‘Might go back to London.’

‘Been back a while now.’

‘Nearly a year,’ he said swirling the beer around inside the glass, ‘I miss it.’

‘Aye this place is played out.’

‘Hardly recognised it when I came back. See Anderston?’

‘Jesus what a state.’

‘Suppose it’s progress Sam.’

‘Progress my arse!’

Danny laughed. ‘Why don’t you go back south?’

‘Ha ha ha,’ said Sam.

‘Why not?’

‘Know how long I’ve been away? Over eight years! Fact, probably nearer ten apart from Goodwood once and that time we all went down for the Guineas.’

‘Kashmir?’

‘Aye, sevens I think it was.’

‘That’s right,’ said Danny. ‘Christ remember Jimmy Lindley storming up that hill. What a race!’

‘We done well that meeting.’

‘You caught Glad Rags and told nobody till afterwards.’

Sam laughed. ‘Aye and Charlie won four and a half grand and wound up skint on Monday morning. Crazy!’

They lapsed into silence.

‘Freddie was asking how you were doing,’ said Danny after a time. ‘Said to get in touch with him if you fancy going back.’

‘Suppose I could get a few quid together by March . . .’

‘To go down?’

‘Ach who’s kidding who?’ He paused. ‘I’d probably collapse in the train. Anyway what about old Rachel?’

‘She could survive in the jungle.’

‘Aye! Maybe . . .’ He swallowed the whisky. ‘What you doing over Christmas?’

‘Don’t know yet. Probably go to the sister’s. How about you?’

‘Ah,’ he smiled. ‘Old Rachel’s trying to get me into the old folk’s party.’

‘Fancy it?’

‘You must be joking – Christ they’re even having a Santa Claus. Imagine it? He’ll probably be the youngest person there.’ They laughed loudly.

‘Course you’ll get some good grub there.’

‘Aye if you sing a solo Christmas carol.’ His face wrinkled in disgust. ‘Worse than a Sally Ann skipper!’

‘Another?’

‘No I’m just going.’

Danny did not reply.

‘Put a line on – three races on the box,’ explained Sam.

‘Aye okay man. You be in tomorrow?’

Sam got to his feet and swallowed the last of the beer before replying: ‘Definitely!’ He turned and walked to the door.

‘Hey!’ called Danny. Sam wheeled. ‘Win a few quid for Ayr tomorrow eh?’

Sam laughed. He travelled home by subway.

Strange thing wis it stertit oan a Wedinsday, A mean nothin ever sterts oan a Wedinsday kis it’s the day afore pay day in A’m ey skint. Mibby git a buckshee pint roon the Anchor, bit that’s aboot it. Anywey it wis efter nine in A wis thinkin aboot gin hame kis A hidny a light whin Boab McCann threw is a dollir in A boat masel in auld Erchie a pint. The auld yin hid two boab ay his ain so A took it in won a couple a gemms a dominoes. Didny win much bit enough tay git is a hauf boattle a Lanny. Tae tell ye the truth A’m no fussy fir the wine bit auld Erchie’ll guzzle it tae it comes oot his ears – A’m tellin ye! A’ll drink it mine ye bit if A’ve goat a couple a quid A’d rethir git a hauf boattle a whisky thin two ir three boattles a magic, bit no auld Erchie. Anywey – nice tae be nice – evry man tae his ain, comes ten in we wint roon the coarnir tae git inty the wine. Auld Erchie waantit me tae go up tae his place bit Jesus Christ it’s like annickers midden up there. So anywey A think A git aboot two moothfus oot it afore it wis done kis is A say whin auld Erchie gits stertit oan that plonk ye canny haud him. The auld cunt’s a disgrace.

A left him it his close in wint hame. It wis gittin cauld in A’m beginnin tae feel it merr these days. That young couple wir in the close in aw, in it it is usual. Evry night i the week in A’m no kiddin ye! Thir parents waant tae gie thim a room tae thirsel, A mean evrybody’s young wance – know whit A mean? They waant tae git merrit anywey. Jesus Christ they young yins nooadays iv goat thir heid screwed oan meer thin we ever hid,
in the sooner they git merrit the better. Anyhow is usual they didny even notice me. It’s Betty Sutherland’s lassie in young Pete Craig – A knew his faither in they tell me he’s almost is hard is his auld man wis. Still they’ve been winchin noo fir near enough six months so mibby she’s knoaked some sense inty his heid. Good luck tae thim, A hope she his. A nice wee lassie – aye in so wis her maw.

A hid tae stoap two up fir tae git ma breath back, A’m no is bad is A wis bit A’m still no right; that bronchitis – Jesus Christ A hid it bad – hid tae stoap work cause ay it. Good joab A hid in aw oan the long distince. Landit up in the Western Infirmary way it tae. Murdir it wis. Still A made it tae the toap, A stey in a room in kitchen in inside toilet in it’s no bad kis A only pey six in a half a month fir rent in rates. Bit A hear thir comin doon although A hope it’s no fir a while kis A’ll git buggir aw bein a singil man. If she wis back A’d git a coarpiration hoose bit she’s gone fir good in anywey they coarpiration hooses urny worth a fuck. End up peyin a haunfil a week in dumped oot somewherr in the wilds? Naw! No me. No even a pub ir buggir aw? Naw they kin stick thim.

Wance in the hoose A pit oan the kettle fir a pot a tea in picked up a book. A’m no much ay a sleeper it times in A sometimes end up readin aw night. Aboot hauf an oor later the door goes. Funny! A mean A dont git that minny visitirs.

Anywey it wis jist young Tony who’d firgoat his key, wi that wee mate a his in a perr a burds. Christ whit dae ye dae? Invite thim in? Well A did – nice tae be nice – in anywey thir aw right they two; sipposed tae be a perr a terraways bit A ey fun Tony aw right in his mate’s his mate. The young yins ir aw right if ye lea thim alane. A’ve eywis maintained that. Gie thim a chance fir fuck sake! So A made thim it hame although it meant me hivvin tae sit oan a widdin cherr kis A selt the couch a couple a months ago kis ay that auld cunt Erchie in his troubles. They
four hid perred aff in wir sittin oan the ermcherrs. They hid brung a cerry-oot wae thim so A goat the glesses oot in it turned oot no a bad wee night, jist chattin away about politics in the hoarses in that. A quite enjoyed it although mine you A wis listenin merr thin A wis talkin bit that’s no unusual. Wan i the burds didny say much either in A didny blame her kis she knew me although she didny let oan. See A used tae work beside her man – aye in she’s nae chicken, bit – nice tae be nice – she isny a bad lookin lassie in A didny let oan either.

Anywey must a been near wan whin Tony gits me oan ma ain in asks me if they kin aw stey the night. Well some might a thought they wir takin liberties bit it the time it soundit reasonable. Course A said aw right in they could sleep ben the room in A’d sleep here in the kitchen. Tae tell the truth A end up spennin the night here in the cherr hell iv a loat these days. Wan minit A’m sittin readin in the nix it’s six a cloak in the moarnin in ma neck’s is stiff is a poker ir somethin. A’ve been thinkin iv movin the bed frae the room inty the kitchen recess anywey – might is well – A mean it looks hell iv a daft hivvin wan double bed in nothin else, aye in A mean nothin else sep the lino. Flogged every fuckin thin thit wis in the room in A sippose if A wis stuck A could flog the bed. Comes tae that A could even sell the fuckin room ir it least rent it oot. They Pakies wid jump it it – A hear they sleep twinty handit tae a room in mine’s is a big room. Still good luck tae thim, they work hard fir thir money in if they dont good luck tae thim if they kin git away wi it.

A goat a couple a blankets in that bit tae tell the truth A wisny even tired. Sometimes whin A git the taste i that bevy that’s me – awake tae aw oors. A’ve goat tae read then kis thir’s nae point in sterrin it the waw – nothin wrang wi the waw right enough, me in Tony done it up last spring aye in done no a bad joab tae. Jist the kitchen bit kis A didny see the point
i daen up the room wi it only hivvin wan double bed fir furniture. He pit up a photy a Jimi Hendricks oan the waw, a poster. A right big yin.

Whit’s the story wi the darkie oan the waw? says auld Erchie, whin i came up the first time efter it wis aw done. Wis the greatest guitarist in the World ya auld cunt: says Tony in grabs the auld yin’s bunnet in flings it oot the windy: First time A’ve seen yir heid: he says: Nae wunnir ye keep it covered.

Erchie wisny too pleased. Hidny seen him wioot that bunnet much masell. He’s git two ir three strans i herr stretchin frae the back i his heid tae the front. The bunnet wis still lyin therr in the pavement whin he wint doon fir it. Even the dugs widny go near it. It’s a right dirty lookin oabject bit then so’s the auld yin’s heid.

A drapped aff eventually wi oot chinegin – well it wid be broo day the morra in A waantit ay git up early wi them bein therr in that. Anywey mibby it wis the bevy A don’t know bit the nix thin Tony’s pullin ma erm, staunin oor me wi a letter frae the tax in A could see it wisny a form tae fill up. A’d nae ideer whit it wis so A opind it right away in oot faws a cheque fir forty-two quid. Jesus Christ A near collapsed. A mean A’ve been oan the broo fir well oor a year in naebody gits money eftir a year. Bit therr ye ur – forty-two quid tae prove me wrang. No bad eh?

Wiv knoaked it aff Stan! shouts Tony, grabbin it oot ma haun.

Well A mean A’ve seen a right few quid in ma day whit wi the hoarses in that bit it the time it wis like winnin the pools. Really wis! Some claes in mibby try fir that new HGV yiv goat tae git noo afore ye kin drive the long distance. Anywey Tony gits his mate in the burds up in tells thim it’s time tae be goin in me in him wint doon the road fir a brekfast.

We wint inty the City Bakeries in hid the works in Tony boat
a
Sporting Chronicle
in we dug oot a couple. Well he did kis A’ve merr ir less chucked it these days, aye long ago, disny bother me much noo bit in wan time A couldny walk past a bettin shop. Anywey nae merr i that, Tony gammils enough fir the baith i us. Course he’d bet oan two flies climbin a waw wherras A wis ey a hoarsey man. Wance ir twice A took an intrist in a dug bit really it wis eywis the hoarses wi me. A sippose the gammlin wis the real reason the wife fuckt aff in left me although ye definitely canny blame her – A mean she stuck it fir near thirty years. Anywey nae merr i that. A hid it aw figirt oot how tae spen it. Tony wint fir his broo money bit A decidet tae lea mine a week in case ay emergincies, in jist wint hame.

Whin A goat therr big Moira wis in daen the cleanin up fir me bit she wisny long in pittin oan a pot i tea. Jist aboot evry time ye see her she’s either drinkin tea ir jist aboot tae pit it oan. So wir sittin in she’s bletherin away good style aboot her weans in the rest ay it whin aw if a sudden she tells me she’s gittin threw oot her hoose – aye in her four kids wi her. Said she goat a letter tellin her.

Canny dae it: A says.

Aye kin they no jist: says Moira: the coarpiration kin dae whit they like Stan.

Well A did know that is a matter i fact bit A also knew thit they widny throw a singil wummin in four weans oot inty the street bit A didny tell her that in case she thoat A wis oan therr side. Big Moira’s like that – a nice lassie, bit she’s ey gittin thins inty her heid aboot people so A said nothin. She telt me she wint up tae Clyde Hoose tae see the manager bit he wisny therr so she seen this young filla who telt her she’d hivty git oot in it wisny cause ay her debt (she owes thim a score back rent) naw it seems two ir three ay her neighbours wir up complainin boot the weans makin a mess in the close in shoutin in bawlin, ir somethin.

In thir’s nothing ye kin dae aboot it noo: he says tae her.

Well that wis a diffrint story in A wis beginnin tae believe her. She wis aw fir sortin it oot wi her neighbours bit A telt her no tae bother until she fun oot fir sure thit thir wis nae reprieve. Anywey she wint away hame efter gittin the weans aff her maw. So Moira hid tae git oot her hoose afore the end ay the month, course whether they’d cerry oot thir threat ir no wis a diffrint story. Surely the publicity alane wid pit thim aff? A must admit the merr A thoat aboot it the angrier A wis becomin. Naw – nice tae be nice – ye canny go aboot pittin the fear i death inty folk – speshly the wummin. Moira might be a big lassie bit she’s nae man tae back her up in whin it comes tae talkin they bastirts up it Clyde Hoose wid run rings roon her. Naw A know whit like it is masell kis A’ve hid ma run-ins doon it that broo aye in in it that National Assistance tae. Aye treat ye like A dont know whit in therr. A wis gittin too worked up so A picked up a book tae firget it fir a while. Anywey A fell asleep in the cherr – oot like a light in didny wake up tae near enough hauf past seven. Ma neck wis helluva stiff bit A didny bother wi the tea kis thir wis only a couple a oors tae go. A pit the coat oan in wint doon the road.