Naw Much of a Talker (14 page)

But ah dont want tae be in goal!

Zip it, Balsiger, an’ jist get in!

But ahm naw very guid in goal.

Yir even worse oot. Now git in goal or ye kin go straight hame!

We got hammered. Oan the way hame, someone said the goalie wis tae blame. Wi a better goalie, we’d hiv won by a few clear goals, they said. The goalie wis worse than useless, they said,
the guy shid be fired intae ooter space etc. Where’d he get tae anyhoo, the damn goalie, ma friends suddenly asked. How? ah asked back. We shid teach him a lesson he’ll nivver forget,
they reckoned. They got themsels aw worked up. Someone hid the idea ae sendin oot a search party. When they found him, he’d get a right guid hidin.

Ah kidnae see the sense in that at aw cos, tae me, it wisnae at aw clear we’d lost cos ae the keeper. An’ anyhow: we’d forced the wee guy tae go in goal. That’s how a
sudden need fur justice came over me an’ ah started givin it: it wisnae wee Balsiger’s fault. It wis awready too late but. Wance that kinda group dynamic kicks in, there’s nae
reversin it. Apart fae me, they wur aw determined tae gi’e wee Balsiger a hidin. So ah stepped forward an’ said:

Ahm yir goalie, lads. If yir hell bent on gi’in a goalie a hammerin, oan ye come. Ahm yir goalie, ya bunch ae fuckin yella-bellies!

Naw yir naw, naw yir naw, they said, an’ ah must be bloody bonkers. Ahd awready decided but ah wis takin Balsiger’s thrashin. It wis time tae speed things up. Ah lashed oot at ma
team-mates, givin it: Mon then, mon then, ya fuckin yella-bellies. Yis only want tae batter Balsiger cos yir aw fuckin yella-bellies. Fuckin yella-bellies is whit yis ur. Want a goalie? Here, yis
hiv a goalie. Ahm yir goalie! Ahm yir goalie! Ah went oan an’ oan at them, punchin them noo an’ knockin them over. Soon, ahd provoked them sae much, they set upon me, right enough,
first wi their fists an’ then their feet. Wis that it? ah asked when ma nose started bleedin. They wur a bunch ae fuckin pansies, ah tellt them. Ahd nivver seen such a crowd ae sissies, their
punches didnae even hurt. That spurred them oan even mair, of course. Me an’ aw but: ah wis aw fired up. They hit oot at me again, harder an’ harder, rougher an’ rougher, mair
an’ mair brutal they wur gettin. Ah went doon on the grun. They kept goin till ah kid hardly breathe. Shortly before the lights went oot, before ah fainted, ah wis croakin, apparently: Ahm
yir goalie! Ahm yir ... Then ivrythin went dark an’ eftir that, aw ah know is: ah woke up at hame, in ma ain bed. Ma faither wis goin ballistic an’ ma maw wis sayin she worried aboot
me: whit wid become of me.

Regula looks at me. That wonderful amazed look she his only a very rare time. Ah cannae believe it, she says.

Naw, Regula, take it fae me. Take it fae me. Aw that exists. Plenty ae other stuff an’ aw. Ye can believe it awright.

Oor two heids wur really close. She wis still lookin at me that same way. Ahd the impression, nearly, she wis lookin in ma face fur traces ae that fight twenty year ago. Ah inched closer, pit ma
hauns oan her cheeks an’ kissed her oan the mooth. It wisnae lust. It wis direct but. An’ the crucial thing wis: Regula kissed me back, long an’ slow. Tenderly. Properly.
Finally.

Ah didnae go tae work the next day. If yir as happy as ah wis that mornin ye cannae jist go tae work as if nowt his happened: matter ae self-respect, that is. So ah skipped
work. Didnae even phone in. When the phone then went, mid-mornin, it hid tae be the work, ah reckoned. Ah wis oan the back foot even as ah said ma name, even. Then but, ah listen mair closely
an’ it’s Uli at the ither end.

Ah wis glad ah didnae need tae make up some lie. Uli! Ah dont believe it! Whit a surprise. Ye still alive?

Whit ye up tae, Goalie?

Ahm at hame.

So ah see.

Ah shid be at work actually.

Oh yeah, true – ah didnae think ae that – that ye kid be slavin away. Noo but, noo yir oan the phone, ah assume yir naw at yir work.

Yir a genius, Uli. Joined-up thinkin, eh? Ahm amazed.

Arent ye just? Eh?

Where ur ye?

Ahm at hame an’ aw!

Whit – ye done wi the farmers?

Naw, oan holiday!

Whit dis that mean? Ye hivnae jist fucked aff, hiv ye? Ye goin back?

Course ah am. Ahm naw finished yet. It’s a longer-term thing wi this farmin family. They’re naw the worst in the world, honestly naw. Noo but, ahm on leave till the day eftir
themorra.

Great. Take it ah’ll be seein ye?

That’s how ahm callin, Goalie.

We met at the station. Even if the weather wis cauld an’ ugly, Uli wantit a bit ae a walk. Lookin a loat better, he wis. Ahd nearly even say: he looked normal, like a normal person,
sorta.

Life oan the farm wis clearly daein him guid. Edi came back tae mind. Edi wis a character fae oor primary school years, a character fae wan ae they readin books. We learnt tae read usin Edi
stories. Edi, Mama, Papa, it said, fur example, oan wan page. Or: Edi is in bed. Edi is in the house. Edi is in the garden. Edi is at the table. Edi is quiet. Eat, Edi, eat. Run, Edi, run. Etc,
etc. This Edi boy – in oor first readin book, in Primary 1, as ah say – wis a bit lanky, a bit pale. So he wis allowed tae go an visit relatives ae his oan a farm. Tae build his
strength up. This gave us weans, in Primary 1, the chance tae learn the names ae aw the animals: Edi is in the barn. Edi sees a pig. Edi sees a calf. Edi sees a chicken. Edi has some soup. Edi is a
good boy. Edi is cheerful. Tellin ye: Edi boy wis something else. Hale generations ae us learnt tae read an’ write wi this wee sick boy. Magine! If ye unnerstaun Edi, ye’ll unnerstaun
us better an’ aw, mibbe – an’ when Edi got back fae the farm, he’d rid cheeks, even.

Ah tell Uli aw that Edi stuff his come back tae me noo ahm seein him again. Ah ask him kin he mind Edi?

Rings a bell, aye. A distant yin. But really only because you’re talkin aboot it but. Ahd forgot aw aboot it, nearly. Tell me, Goalie, how come you nivver forget stuff like that?
It’s a lang, lang time ago. Jist fuckin forget it aw.

How shid ah? It disnae take up that much space in yir brain. Ah kin mind loads ae stuff. An’ sometimes ah kin take bits ae it oot an’ use them. It’s guid sometimes tae hiv
stuff at the back ae yir brain. Tell me somethin else but, Uli. How well dae ye know wee Stofer?

Minute ah say that, Uli his a coughin fit. Ah wait – patiently – till he’s done coughin. Ah wait fur an answer. Ah kin see he’s lookin ill again, jist aboot.

Wee Stofer?

Aye, wee Stofer.

Hoo well ah know him?

Exactly. Hoo well ye know him.

Ah know him a bit, aye. Same as you. Know him fae the pub, fae hivin a few jars. Smokin heroin. Ivry noo an’ then, he actually sellt some. A runner, he wis, smaw fry. Naw wan ae the big
boys. Ye know that yirsel. How ye askin?

Is it possible at aw that wee Stofer an’ Pesche fae Cobbles an’ you an’ that French guy ah picked up in Pontarlier – is it possible, ahm wonderin, at aw that yis aw
decided tae get thegither tae dae a big deal? Ah mean – admit it yirsel – it’s thinkable yis aw once said: enough ae aw this messin aroon wi a few grams here, a few grams there,
fuck fifty- an’ hunner-franc notes, we want intae the big league.

Uli’s lookin at me still.

An’ tell me, Uli, is it mibbe possible that – fur some bastarn reason – me daein time wis part ae that plan? Is it possible wan ae yis hid the bright idea ae sacrificin Goalie?
Whitivver the point ae that wis.

Tell me, Goalie, hiv ye hid wan too many? Hiv ye been takin pills?

Naw, the opposite in fact. Ma heid’s as clear as a tarn. An’ even allowin fur the fact ah kin be a bit fuckin naïve at times, ah dont feel very comfortable wi aw this. Sorry,
ahv a loatae thinkin tae dae but, if yis did dae a deal at ma expense. An’ there’s me thinkin, still thinkin, yis ur aw ma pals, mates even.

At yir expense? Mibbe yiv forgot but ye got 5k fur it!

An’ nearly a year in the Joke. Dont forget the Joke, Uli. Five thoo willnae buy a shack doon in Spain. Naw a really smaw yin, even. An’ naw in Morocco, even.

Whit d’ye want me tae dae, Goalie?

Nuthin.

So whit ur ye haverin oan aboot?

Ahd jist like tae know how a lousy bunch ae bob-a-jobbers – normally hardly able, hardly, tae push hawf a gram ae sugar – wis suddenly dreamin ae big fuckin business. Whit wid
interest me even mair is: hoo come, tae go fur that dream, ye hid tae fuckin sideline a harmless cunt like me? Whose fuckin bright idea wis that? Remind me, Uli: hoo long hiv us two known each
ither?

Fur ivver.

Naw, see, that’s where yir wrang. Ye dont know me. Naw really. As fur me, ahm jist fuckin gettin tae know you, mate.

Uli took a sharp left, intae the trees. Ah wondered furra minute shid ah take a right an’ continue wi’oot him. Ah decided but, ah didnae want tae make it that easy fur the cunt. Ah
stayed wi him anither bit.

Whit exactly wis it yis wur up tae? Or ur still up tae – is that it?

Ahv nae idea whit yir oan aboot, Goalie. Yiv taken too many dodgy drugs, obviously. Mibbe you shid sign yirsel intae a farm an’ aw.

Ahm takin nuthin, Uli. Ahm takin fuck-aw.

Only you kin know for sure.

How’s Marta?

She his nowt tae dae wi this.

That’s naw how ahm askin.

She’s awright. Faur as it goes. Naw seen her recently?

Ah wis in Spain an’ hid a loat oan at work itherwise.

Listen, mate, ah feel a bit sick. Is it awright wi you if we start tae turn back?

Naw a problem at aw, Uli. Ah know, eftir aw, yir the world fuckin champion when it comes tae changin the subject. Or completely avoidin wan.

Wan mair thing, Uli, an’ it’s important. Ah nivver wance named a name, naw tae the drug squad, naw in court, an’ naw any ither place eether. Leak-proof, ah wis. As
leak-fuckin-proof as a brand-new oilskin. An’ yous knew that. Yis knew an’ aw yis kid sacrifice me an’ ahd nivver name names. The wan thing ah cannae get intae ma thick fuckin
heid but is: how did ah hiv tae be sent tae the slaughter. Yis kidda left me totally ootae it. That widnae hiv changed fuck-aw. Cept ahd’ve hid ma peace. An’ yous, yours.

Uli’s tremblin. His face is aw covered in that sickly sweat again. Colour ae cheese, he is. Ah know that masel fae back then. Fae when ah wis still oan them masel. Whit ah dont know is
whit’s goin oan inside Uli. Ah kin see but he’s ashamed. The wey dugs kin be sometimes.

Speak tae Pesche aboot it.

Ah will, Uli, ah will. Ye kin be fuckin sure ae that.

Naw anither word wis spoke till we got tae ma bit. Ah didnae ask did he want tae come up furra drink. Bye, ah said jist. An’ that wis it.

The next yin oan ma list wis wee Stofer. Ah looked up his number an’ phoned him right away. He wisnae answerin so ah made masel a coffee an’ waited, jist. Ah
started wonderin where the lanky fuckin cloon kid be, at this time o day. Hawf three in the eftirnoon. He’s hivin his first jar, fur sure. Question’s jist: where?

Ah employed ye olde probability model. Checked oot the waterin hole first. Bullseye. An’ who’s he at the table wi? Naw that it surprised me any mair. Hi, Pesche. Hi, wee Stofer, man.
Take it yiv a spare seat fur me?

Whit ye wantin? Stofer asks.

Tae join ye. An’ ah join them.

Very funny, Pesche gives it.

Jesusfuck, lads, ah cannae always be funny. Naw even Charlie Chaplin always is. Why ahm ah tellin ye that but? Yis dont even know who Charlie fuckin Chaplin fuckin is cos there’s naw a lot
yis dae know anyhow an’ yis only ivver watch they instantly forgettable shite films cars ur aye explodin in. The early Chaplin’s worth knowin. Yis shid gi’e it a go some time.
Chaplin’s the kinda guy a loatae stuff happens tae. In a loatae the stories, it’s the kinda shit that happens tae me an’ aw, and the wans watchin think it’s dead funny even
if Charlie’s hivin a shite time ae it. Tellin ye, that’s summit that happens often: ye laugh maist when summit’s actually sad-as-fuck. Disnae matter but, eh. Mibbe that’s
the way it his tae be, even. It’s jist: it shid be possible fur ivrywan tae laugh thegither, insteid ae laughin at each ither. An’ the thing ah find maist anti-normal is that ahm the
wan – me ae aw folk – that’s given the Chaplin role, the role ae the wan that falls oan his face – or gits bitten in the arse by a dug – so ithers hiv summit tae laugh
at. Unlike Charlie fuckin Chaplin but, ah didnae fuckin audition.

Get tae the point, Goalie, wid ye? Yir haverin oan. Naw, really. Want tae know hoo normal ye ur? Zero, ya jerk, zero percent normal. So fuckin zip it or go an’ annoy some cunt else.

Anither drink, lads? Whit’ll we hiv? Hiv they a Spanish rid in here? Seein yis his pit me in the mood furra Spanish rid. Nae idea why that shid be. That’s the wey it is but. So lads,
who’s pickin the tab up? Ahm happy enough tae dae the orderin.

Oot wi it, Goalie. Say whit the fuck it is yir wantin. Or get the hell ootae here!

Didnt ah awready say. Ah fancy a Spanish rid. A Spanish brandy wid be okay as well but. Or Spanish kidneys.

Ahm tellin ye wan last time, Goalie. Get tae the fuckin point. Stop ramblin oan an’ fuckin oan.

Ah like tae ramble oan but. Same as some other cunts like tae go oan big adventures. Same as ithers dream ae bein big drugs barons an’ shiftin mair an’ mair stuff. Me, ah like tae
ramble oan.

Pesche grabs me by the collar so hard, ma two top buttons pop aff. He’s throttlin me. Ah kin hardly breathe.

Ahv hid enough, Goalie, Pesche says. Noo you listen tae me!

Stofer’s jist sittin there, sayin nuthin, starin at the table. He takes a toothpick fae the cruet stand an’ starts chewin it. Ah dont try tae defend masel against Pesche. Naw, ah
try, best ah kin, tae ensure his grip stays tight.

Aw that’s great, Pesche, ah manage tae croak. Yir such a strong fucker. Yir scarin the shit ootae me, Peter boy. Champion wrestler, ma fuckin arse. Go on: squeeze a toty bit harder
an’ ah’ll die ae fuckin fear.

Wid ye – jist fur fuckin wance – shut the fuck up furra minute? Ye haver oan an’ oan an’ oan an’ oan an’ hivnae a fuckin clue aboot fuck-aw. If ye’d zip
it fur thirty seconds, ah kid tell ye whit happened.