Agnes Owens (7 page)

‘Spam,' she said, then, ‘are ye sure ye're feelin' alright?'

As I buttered my eight slices of bread I reflected it was going to be hard wakening myself. Still, if this soft soap was applied long enough she might consider it better to have me than Proctor in the house, because it would have to be one or the other.

‘Goodnight,' I said to her before I retired. I tried to add the word ‘mother' but since we seldom addressed each other by our names it was difficult. She didn't even answer, so engrossed was she in the telly.

Everything went wrong in the morning. First of all I slept in. I had to leave without tea. On the site I discovered the bread I had buttered was minus the spam. The wall I built collapsed because the ganger insisted I use wet brick. ‘Get ma books ready, I'm packing it in!' I told the foreman.

‘Away hame an' tell me tomorrow,' he said. I returned home about three in the afternoon to find Proctor drinking tea and eating cheese sandwiches. I grabbed him by his greasy collar and ran him out the door. ‘Come back here an' ye're oot the windae the same as yer last wife!' was my message.

My mother's mouth was still open from shock when I came back into the living room. ‘And don't think I don't mean it!' I said.

I entered my bedroom and lay down feeling exhausted but unable to sleep because of the rage that tore at my head. But I must have dozed off because I woke with a start at the sound of a tray being dumped on the coffee table. I knew I had to begin again. I didn't feel like it, but I must get rid of Proctor once and for all.

‘Sorry about the carry on,' I mumbled as she wiped spilled tea off the table with one of my nearly new vests.

‘Think nothing of it,' she sneered, throwing the vest violently onto the bed.

‘Tell ye what,' I said, ‘how's aboot comin' wi' me into the Paxton lounge for a wee break? I'll buy ye a sherry.'

‘I don't drink,' she replied through clenched teeth. But somewhere I must have struck a chord for she added, ‘Anyway, I might gie ye a showin' up. I've nothin' much tae put on.'

Inwardly I conceded that could be true. I said, ‘Put on that nice fur coat ye got frae the Oxfam an' ye'll be lovely. In fact I'll introduce ye tae a real gentleman compared tae which Proctor Mallion looks like a bit shit on the pavement.'

I didn't add that the gentleman was Paddy McDonald. She must have been impressed for she said, ‘Anything tae keep ye happy.'

We sat in an obscure seat at the back of the public bar, although my mother was under the impression she was in the lounge, and I did not disillusion her. Self-consciously she patted her frizzy hair fresh from the curling tongs. I hoped no one would mistake her for a girlfriend. Doubtfully she informed me she would have a sherry. As I ordered the bevvy Paddy entered. I was glad to see that he was miserably sober.

‘Do me a favour,' I asked him, ‘I want ye tae meet the auld wife. She's sittin' back there.'

He looked round furtively, but said courteously, ‘An' a fine lookin' woman tae. I'm surprised ye don't bring her here mair often.'

‘Are ye kiddin'? Listen, I'm trying tae get rid o' Proctor Mallion, an' this is all part o' the set-up. Have a word wi' her an' prove there's better fish in the sea.'

He was aghast. ‘Ye're no' suggestin' I should start courtin' her?'

Actually I hadn't considered this. Paddy would have been as unwelcome a stepfather as Proctor. ‘Nothin' like that,' I assured him, ‘jist come an' sit at the table for a while tae take the bad look aff us.' Reluctantly Paddy brought over his beer.

‘Meet Paddy McDonald,' I said in the way of introduction.

My mother turned pink. I was surprised considering the
contempt she had for him. Stiffly Paddy seated himself, also looking flushed. I thought this was going to be great. The two of them acting like teenagers.

‘Very pleased to meet you,' he said.

Her face lit up. ‘It's a pleasure I'm sure.'

After the second sherry my mother relaxed and addressed herself exclusively to Paddy. He was listening avidly to her every word. I gave up all pretence at listening because, apart from the fact that I was bored to tears, I spied Proctor Mallion at the bar arguing with Flossie. The upshot was that Flossie conveyed the message to him loudly, ‘Listen sonny boy,
you
are barred!' Proctor's answer was to hurl a glass through the mirror behind the bar. Flossie screamed and ran for cover. My mother gave a moan of fear. This excited Paddy's chivalrous instincts. He hurried up to Proctor and smashed a lemonade bottle on the counter over his head. Immediately my mother gathered up her coat and ran out the bar shouting, ‘That's the last time I come oot wi' you.'

As it was too early for a bouncer to be on the scene, impulsively I took on the job myself. I'm not all that keen on a fight but if there's one set out handy before me I have no alternative but to take part. Besides, Paddy was about to be executed any minute. Proctor, whose skull must have been as thick as concrete, was rising to his feet with bared teeth. Neatly I tripped him up, at the same time instructing Paddy to beat it quick. After I put the boot in on Proctor once or twice he was out for the count, and it was easy to deposit him on the pavement. The police van, which is as regular as a good taxi service, cleaned him off and all was quiet again. Flossie was grateful. He asked if I would like a job as a bouncer. ‘Naw, but I'll have a double whisky.'

When I returned home my mother was watching the telly as usual.

‘Some carry on that wis,' she said. ‘Ye'll no' catch me in one o' these lounges again.'

‘It was a' your fault anyway.'

She was amazed, ‘My fault!'

‘If it hudny been for the fact that ye were encouragin' Proctor Mallion I wouldny have taken ye to the Paxton. I thought ye must be havin' a right dreary time when ye took up wi' a character like him.'

She appeared to be so stunned that she became breathless. Finally she said, ‘Me, takin' up wi' Proctor! The only reason he was in the hoose wis because I wis sellin' him that set o' tools lyin' under yer bed. They've been lyin' there for ages an' I could never get cleanin' the room right because o' them. I only got a fiver but it was well worth it tae get rid o' them.'

‘Wait a minute,' I said, scarcely able to credit my ears. ‘You didny gie him ma set o' tools that took me two years tae pay up when I wis an apprentice brickie?'

‘Well, ye never had them oot the box as far as I can remember.'

‘Ye don't understand,' I said slowly, my head beginning to ache. ‘Ye never use yer own tools if ye can help it. Ye always nick somebody else's. If ye took yer own tools they wid jist get nicked.'

She was unperturbed. ‘How should I know that?' Then she had the cheek to add, ‘How's aboot makin' a cup o' tea?'

‘Get lost!' I replied.

C
ome this particular Saturday, a day I normally look forward to with great enthusiasm, I lost interest in the usual programme. Maybe I was becoming too aware of increasing pressures. All Friday night's talk had seemed loaded to me. Usually discussions go above my head unless I'm personally involved, but phrases like ‘Are ye lookin' for trouble', ‘Stick the heid on him' or ‘He's only a Tim' pierced through my ears and stuck in my brain until, for no apparent reason to anyone, I threw a glass at the mirror behind the bar.

‘Bouncer!' shrieked Flossie.

I walked out voluntarily to save any bother. So here I was on Saturday morning heading for a bus to take me to the splendours of the west away from alcoholic fumes and unreliable moods.

Collie Lumsden and a mate were sitting on the wall at the bus stance. Collie used to work beside me on the building sites until he gave it all up to be a full-time alcoholic.

‘Where are ye gaun?' he called.

I replied, ‘Up country.' At present I was not on the same wavelength as him and did not fancy his company. To cover up I asked civilly, ‘Waitin' for the boozer tae open?'

He nodded then offered me a can of lager. Collie always took it for granted everyone was gasping for a drink. Usually he was right. Reluctantly I took the can, wishing the bus would hurry before I was sucked back into my familar social life.

‘That's an idea,' he said with inspiration. He turned to his mate, ‘We'll get the bus up tae the Clansman. It should be open by the
time we get there.' I was fed up. I could see how things were going.

Luckily his mate replied, ‘Don't be daft. You are barred in the Clansman.'

Collie was incredulous. ‘For Christ's sake, when wis I barred?'

‘Dae ye no' mind dancin' on tap o' the table when ye wir last there? Then they pit ye oot.'

‘Christ,' repeated Collie, dismayed, ‘I don't mind that. Maybe ye're right.'

The bus moved into the stance. Thankfully I got on, and bumped into a big fella who was getting on at the same time. He stood back apologetically but not before I nearly choked on a mouthful of his long hair. I don't mind long hair but this was ridiculous. It almost reached his waist. I gave him a cool stare as I quickly scrambled aboard. Then with a wave to Collie and his mate I settled down to view the fresh pastures flying past.

By the time I reached my destination I was squeamish. The bus had been stuffy and the road had possessed the structure of a scenic railway. I tottered off wondering whether to head for the Clansman, but I forced myself to give it a miss. Instead I purchased a bottle of lemonade and a pie then headed for the pier and a boat alongside. A chalked board informed me that the mailboat was due to leave any minute for passengers wishing a trip round the islands for fifty pence. This was worth a try, so I climbed aboard. There were some sightseers on deck with the loud English patter. I hunched into a corner and the wooden rails dug uncomfortably into my shoulder blades. Seconds before the boat moved off the big fella with the long hair climbed on. Our eyes met with the awareness that one lonely type has for another in closed company. But I turned my head to convey the message that if I was alone I liked it that way. I made up my mind there and then I was getting off at the first island. I had no intention of being trapped on this boat for any length of time with these foreigners.

‘Going off already?' asked the highland boatman, pocketing my fifty pence and no suggestion of change when I conveyed my wish to him.

‘Aye, if ye don't mind.'

‘Not at all son, we'll catch you on the way back,' he said as though I was a fish.

Ignoring his helping hand, I leapt onto the jetty of an unknown island. I nearly fell in the drink, but desperation saved me. Like a fugitive I scurried up the first path which led me away from the shore. I sensed contemplative stares following me, but when I turned round the moon faces on the boat were becoming harmless dots. Only the big fella stood out like a well-drawn sketch. I retreated into the undergrowth.

The path carried on through woods, ferns and streams. I was feeling great now, like Chief Chingachgook. The path began to lead upwards over the top of the island. It was hard going hauling myself up over bits of rock and slippery earth, but it was worth it when I reached the top. Panting and sweating, I lay down on the bracken to get my breath back. The view was terrific, all lochs and mountains. I felt contempt for my mates who would be firmly established in the boozer by now, slugging away at whisky and beer, unaware that there were better ways of passing the time. Yes, this was the life. I brought out my pie and lemonade. The pie was squashed and the lemonade lukewarm, but it was the most enjoyable meal I had eaten for a long time. I took off my jacket to make a pillow. With the droning of the bees and the heat of the sun on me like an electric blanket, I fell sound asleep on my bracken bed.

I don't know how long I slept but the heat had faded and I was stiff and thirsty. I shivered as I took the last swig of lemonade. Shakily I arose and followed the path downwards into a wood. But it was still great, I assured myself. I started to sing, ‘I love to go awandering', but the sound of my voice was so unnatural I changed it to a whistle. I wished I could see a wee furry animal,
or even a deer. That would be something, but I appeared to be the only animal that was moving. Or was I – I wondered. I could hear the noise of branches breaking now and then, and there were rustlings in the bushes. I hoped it was one of these wee furry animals, or likely it was a bird.

‘Come oot, come oot, whoever ye are,' I shouted recklessly. No one answered right enough, which made it worse. I began to walk quickly, then ended up running. I don't know why, but once you start running it makes it a certainty that somebody's following you. Then I saw the loch looming through the trees. I reached the open space of the shore. I slowed down. The panic was over. The sun switched on again and a speedboat streaking along the horizon was reassuring. I sat on a bit of rock and looked over the water. Now I thought it was a pity there was no one to talk to. But it was even more of a pity I hadn't brought a half-bottle of something to calm the nerves. Still, I wasn't used to walking about islands and staring at lochs. I must concentrate on how great it all was. I looked hard at the loch for ten minutes until I had to admit that I was just fed up. I began to get a thirst and it wasn't for water, so I started moving again.

I followed the path deeper into the wood fighting through ferns which were as tall as myself. It was getting harder to follow the path and I was beginning to think I would never get out of this jungle when I emerged at last into a clear grassy bit where the trail led upwards again. I could be heading back to the jetty, the escape route to civilisation and the Clansman. Then I spied the top of a building on another path to the left. I thought I might as well investigate this while I was here.

The building turned out to be merely a hut, neatly boarded up and of no earthly interest, but beyond that was the entrance to a graveyard. It was a very wee graveyard and very old. The gravestones were a dirty dark grey and standing at all angles. A perfect background
for Dracula. I studied one big stone closely and could make out a fancy design with words written underneath, ‘Here Lies the Corpse of Jessie Buchanan'. On another there was a cheerful verse which I managed to decipher after peering at it for five minutes: