Naw Much of a Talker (2 page)

So ye hivnae seen Uli? Lookin fur him ah am. Need tae ask him summit, summit important.

Naw, Paco goes, naw, he hisnae seen him fur ages, o’er a week at least. Poor bastard. Guy’s in trouble, nae doot.

Sorry, but Uli’s jist a tube but. Ah didnae say that tae Paco, o course. Ah keep it tae masel jist. It’s naw summit ah need tae tell any cunt else. Naw even Uli. Gets on yir tits
but, ye can nivver make a proper arrangement wi the cunt. Ivver.

Okay, it has tae be said: he got me this flat. The roof o’er ma heid is thanks tae him. Tae his auld man’s connections.

But sorry but: the place disnae belong tae the cunt. Ah pay rent. Ah mean: thanks, Uli, thanks very much, thanks a lot, mate, a thoosan fuckin thank-yous, but it’s got fuck aw tae dae wi
the deal us two made, you & I. If ye tell a mate ye’ll hiv the dosh ye owe him by such an’ such a date, ye make fuckin sure yiv fuckin got it by that date, or ye get in fuckin
touch, ye give him a wee phone, ye drop him a fuckin line, send him a fuckin message – naw, ah widnae know how tae word it eether, ye say summit but, ye dont fuckin vanish aff the planet.

Ah looked at the clock, up oan the wall beside the faded Real Madrid penant, same beam the flourescent tubes ur on. Hawf eleven awready. Wan last Veterano, then get tae fuck hame, ah thought.
Shitin weather. Gimme a schnapps, Paco, an’ pour it nice eh, fuckin freeze ye it wid ootside again.

Strange, there wisni mair in oan a Friday. A few young yins playin table fitba, a few auld yins hivin a natter an’ that wis it. An’ me waitin. Fur summit.

Mon, mate, dae summit, ye need tae fuckin dae summit, ah tellt masel. Ah ordered anither brandy. Guid joab ahd Regi’s fifty. Yir a diffrint person so ye ur wi cash in yir wallet. If ah
dont find Uli soon but, Regula’s goney hiv tae wait tae get paid back.

Thinkin o Regula hid me greetin aw ae a sudden. Dont know how masel, fuckin embarrassin it wis but: sittin on yir ain at a table an’ the tears trippin ye.

Closin time, Goalie!

Paco’s missus. If need be, she caws the shots roon here. Ensures the rules ur kept. Paco’s too fuckin saft. He cannae throw folk oot, cannae bring himsel tae dae it. She kin but.

Ah rubbed ma eyes, pretended they wur irritatin me, paid an’ left tae go hame. Ah didnae take the maist direct route but. Naw, ah wantit tae drop by Cobbles, see if
Regula wis finishin her work an’ aw mibbe. So ah smoke a fag in the courtyaird, keep an eye on the back door, thinkin that’s the door she’d go ootae. Lights wur still oan in the
pub. Wid be nice tae see her, even fur a wee minute jist, ah thought. Ah waited in the dork, unner the porch. Ye widnae hiv seen me fae the street an’ naw fae the carpark eether, thank fuck.
Buddy wis waitin oan her an’ aw, ye see. Buddy wis sittin in his motor. Buddy wis her bloke – it wis official. Buddy wis pickin Regula up fae her work cos it wis his responsibility, cos
that’s whit ye dae if yiv a burd who serves behind a bar an’ ye want tae be sure she gets hame safe. Specially if she works at a place like Cobbles, frequented by dangerous cunts like
me. By worse cunts than me an’ aw.

Congratu-fuckin-lations, Buddy, yiv it aw under control so ye hiv: ye check yir motor, check yir burd, check yir hair, Buddy, ye check yir blood pressure, you’re the boss, Buddy, hunner
percent, the champ, Buddy, she’s yours, yiv it aw in the palm ae yir hand, ye hiv her in the palm ae yir hand, well done, aye – well done, well done, Buddy, ya fuckin wimp, an’ ah
spat on the fuckin grun.

Ahd nowt, at that there moment.
Nada.
Nae claim oan the lassie. Nae money. Naw a hope. Nowt. Ah jist wantit tae stroll past as she wis leavin her work, like it wis a coincidence like,
an’ gi’e it: Look who it is, Regula! You oan yir way hame an’ aw? Where ye headin, Regi? Mon, ah’ll take ye. Naw, it’s naw oota ma way, naw, really, it’s nae
bother, ah wantit tae go that wey anyhoo.

As we walked, ahd then hiv done ma “mysteriously silent” act. Usually works, that yin. Specially if she’s been behind a bar aw day. Ye dont go nippin her brain at hawf one in
the mornin. Naw, ye need tae be able tae shut the fuck up, tae listen if she’s tellin ye summit, an’ even if she’s naw. An’ then, later, ootside her door, a wee hug
an’ a kiss on each cheek, naw: the
three
kisses we dae, an’ ye make the last last that wee bit longer, that wee bit longer than usual. Then ye get tae fuck. Ye dont forget tae
turn back but an’ g’ie her a wee wave.

That’s hoo ahd hiv played it. An’ she’d be thinkin: he’s an awright guy, Goalie. Jist been in the jail furra year an’ hisnae any money, he’s got class but.
Why’d he hesitate like that at the last kiss? Ahm sure ahm right: he hesitated, sorta. As if he wantit it tae last longer. Or ahm ah wrang?

That’s the kinda partin thoughts women like Regula like. The note tae leave them oan. Tae keep them happy.

It wis jist me thinkin them but. An’ up aheid in the shadows wis Buddy in his tarted-up Toyota fuckin Celica, the sound system turned right up, nae doot, the heatin an’ aw, probably.
An’ here’s me, on ma fuckin tod, freezin ma arse aff oan a drafty corner, useless cunt that ah am. Ahv nae music eether.

Hey, Goalie, whit’s up? Whit ye daein, still here? Ye tryin tae catch yir fuckin death or whit? ah said tae masel, then took aff hame. On ma tod, as usual.

Regula isnae the only wan who knows. Ah wis up in the Joke furra while – Dinner, B&B – an’ yeah, fur drugs it wis. Naw as if ah wis the first, is it.
It’s naw a big deal. Temporary setback, that’s aw. It didnae work oot. That’s aw. Nae fuckin excuses. Ah fucked up. A few folk knew too much an’ some ae they cunts talked
too much. Got fucked over, ah did, ended up oan the inside. Ah done ma time. Took the blame. Aw ae it. Ah didnae name any names an’ – if ye think aboot it – that’s actually
sayin summit. It’s by wi noo. Aw over. Sorry. There’s nowt else ah want tae say aboot it. Naw yet, at least. The wan thing ahd add is: as usual, ah done ivrythin masel. By that, ah
mean: ah aye went fur whit ah needed masel, an’ it wisnae aroon here eether. Ah wis nivver involved in anythin big. Wantit fuck aw tae dae wi the dealers here in the Fog, where ivry cunt
knows ivry ither cunt, an’ nae cunt’s ivver pleased fur ye unless ye catch the fuckin flu or a nasty rash or summit. Ah always done things masel jist, cept fur this wance, the time ah
also fuckin copped it.

Ahm tryin tae get back oan ma feet noo, tae settle doon. Lookin furra job, ah am, summit steady. I’ve got masel a roof o’er ma heid awready, well, ah didnae, Uli did, or tae be mair
exact: his auld man did. It’s naw bad, two rooms, central heatin, an’ it his a bath – really guid, actually. An’ noo, ah definitely need a joab so ah dae. Or things’ll
go the wey they shouldnae again.

Course, ah kid jist go oot an’ arrange summit, if ah took it intae ma heid, tell a few fuckin sob stories, soft-talk this yin or that yin, make a few calls, check oot a few things, keep ma
eyes an’ ears open, nane ae that wid be a problem. Ahm the “communicative type”, that wey at least. An ahv the economy sussed, mair or less. Above aw: ah know ivry cunt, an’
ah mean:
ivry cunt
, inside an’ ootside the Fog. The problem’s jist: ah
know
aw that awready. An’ that’s naw whit ah want any mair, ah want an ordinary
joab, dosh goin intae ma accoont at the end ae the month, an’ an end-o-year bonus, or thirteenth salary payment, an’ ta-very-much, Goalie, over an’ oot.

An’ Regula. Ah want her noo an’ aw. Sometimes, lately, when ahm hingin aroon the hoose, ah think ae her, an’ whit ahd say tae her, an’ whit ah widnae above aw. An’
then ah imagine whit she wid say, whit she’d dae, whit she’d think, an’ in ivry case it wid be spot oan, ah reckon. Strange as fuck, it is. Wiv known each ither fur ages an’
ages awready. Yet it’s only since ah got ootae jail, ahv been thinkin ae her. Or tae be mair exact: since thon night she lent me the fifty. Strange as fuck, intit. Explain that yin.

Ahm ponderin this subject again early wan eftirnoon when aw ae a sudden, some cunt’s hammerin the door despite the fact there’s a perfectly-functionin fuckin
doorbell. Goalie! Ye in? Open up, it’s me – Uli!

Come in, ya tube, it’s open. Shut the door behind ye, yir lettin the fuckin cauld in. An’ there wis me thinkin ah wis nivver goney set eyes on ye again. Fancy a wee beer, mate, or
will ah make ye a coffee?

He’s naw lookin his best, Uli. Sorry tae hiv tae say so, he looks ill but, mair like, ill-as-fuck, tae be precise. Whit’s up wi ye, Uli? Arse droppin oota ye or whit? Hiv ye the
jaundice?

Shut yir gob, he goes.

So ye hiv got it!

Naw, it’s jist a wee cold jist.

That’s nivver a fuckin cold! Ye dont believe that yirsel even. First, yir naewhere tae be fuckin found. Then ye turn up lookin like this. Ye want tae see yirsel. Look in the fuckin mirror.
Ye look like a chunk o cheese. Auld fuckin cheese at that. Ah dont want ye hingin aroon here if yiv got the jaundice. Cos that’s whit ye’d caw less than ideal. Ye shid go an’ see
a doctor. Ah know wan. A decent yin. Ye need tae dae summit, mate. Caw him fae here if ye want. Dr Wydenmeyer can mibbe even take ye theday, if need be, he’s a guid doctor, a guid guy
an’ aw, he disnae fuckin moralise like maist o the rest o them. Ah’ll caw him fur ye, if ye want.

Uli’s like that but: naw, ahm naw tae get over-excited, there’s nowt wrang wi him, he’s fit an’ well, jist wantit tae drop by an’ say hello. He his an envelope fur
me an’ he’s sorry it took so long, a bit longer than expected. An’ he’s glad, he goes on, we can noo finally draw a line unner it.

Hing on, ahm the wan that draws the line, Uli. Ahm the wan that drew the line. If ye dae hiv the dosh noo, sae much the better, jist remember but: wis me drew the line.

Okay, look, ahm puttin the money in wi yir bananas so ye know where it is. Dont want ye comin greetin later, sayin ye cannae find it. Ah want ye tae coont it an’ aw, Goalie. Go on –
check it.

It’s awright, ah’ll coont it later.

It’s a fair amount ae money, Goalie, an’ it’s aw yours. It really is a loat.

A year, nearly, in the Joke’s a loat an’ aw, Uli.

Then, a while later, he’s suddenly askin hiv ah naw any junk. A wee bit even. Hawf a sachet, even jist. Left-overs fae some ither time, mibbe. Ah kin feel cold turkey comin on.
Gradually’s naw the word fur it. Aw ae a sudden, mair like.

Uli, hoo often hiv ah tae tell ye? Believe me wance an’ fur aw, will ye? Ahv given it up. Stopped. Turn ma flat upside doon if ye want, ye’ll naw find nuthin but. This place is
cleaner than a wean’s fuckin bedroom. Tellin ye: they days ur gone noo. Ahm done wi aw that. Defin-fuckin-ately. Ah done a year in jail, Uli, an’ that’s e-fuckin-nough. It’s
a new me noo, whit happened afore is by wi. Over an’ done wi. Ahm lookin furra job an’ puttin some money aside. Then ah’ll go on holiday, mibbe. The Mediterranean or summit.
An’ that’s it. Oot in the mornin like ivry ither cunt, a jar or two in the evenin mibbe, a walk roon the village, then beddybies is whit it is fur me, ah’ll slide intae bed, nae
stress, nae hassle, nae hivin tae talk tae nae cunt afore ah go tae sleep, nowt. An’ ah’ll nivver wait ivver again oan the kinda lyin bastard ah used tae be masel. An’ if ivver ah
spot the drug squad oot in the street, ah’ll be able tae look the officer in question in the eye, be aw-friendly, say hello an’ if the cunt looks back, ah can think tae masel, aye, jist
look, ya hunchbacked ratcatcher, go on – look at me jist, ya fuckin milkboy, cos ahm cleaner than clean noo so ah am, cleaner than you an’ aw the fuckin rest o them pit together.

An’ Uli’s like that: brand new, Goalie, well done you, nice wee wife, child seat in the motor, wee terraced hoose in the suburbs, member ae the health club an’ aw – ah
probably cannae take it aw in masel, Uli reckons. Who dae ye think ye ur anyhoo? is next. Think yir a new man, like Paul on the way tae Damascus or summit. Get real, mate. An’ anyhoo:
who’s aye first aff the mark when some cunt whips their needles oot?

He comes oot wi that ivry noo an’ then, Uli, aw that Paul-on-the-way-tae-Damascus stuff. Cunt knows his Bible. He used tae dae Greek an’ Latin. Wantit tae study Theology or mibbe he
did, even. So he brings up Paul oan his way tae Damascus again. Aw that clap-trap. He breaks oot in a sweat meanwhile, a sickly fuckin sweat, aw over his face.

C’mon, say it, tell me, Goalie, jist tell me! Who dae ye think ye ur? An’ who dae ye think ye fuckin could be?

Ah think fuck-aw, Uli. Ah need tae gi’e up the drugs jist. Ahv got plans an’ that. Fur the time ahv got left –

Fucksake, yir soundin like ma auld man, Goalie. Howzaboot ye shut the fuck up an’ gi’e me summit jist?

Ah gi’ed him Resyl Plus. A small bottle ah hid. An’ a pair ae scissors tae help him get rid ae the drop counter. Wance he got it open, he knocked back the hale bottle in a oner. Ah
gi’ed him a spoonful o honey tae get rid ae the taste an’ gave it: Ah think fuck-aw, Uli, honestly. Where ahm staunin, ivrythin’s good. You dae whit ye want but. All ae yis dae
whit yis want. Ahm speakin fur masel jist. Got it? Ahm naw fuckin speakin fur the Sally Army, or whitivver. Ahm jist speakin fur masel jist.

Ahm
oot
– an’ it took me long enough, ah kin tell ye. Ah dont want tae go oan an’ oan aboot it eether – cos that’s the ither thing that really gets oan ma
tits aboot drugs: the folk oan them nivver fuckin shut up aboot them. So caw the fuckin doctor, wid ye. Ye look like a total zombie. Ye’ll be gettin the heebie-jeebies next.

Hey, how ye naw pittin any music oan, Goalie?

Hiv tae admit: he’s really fuckin guid at that, Uli, aye wis, changin the subject afore it ends up in a fight. He’s aye daein that. So ah pit the Stones oan an’ go an’
get a couple ae cans.

Where ur ye lookin, mate? Furra joab, ah mean. Dis it hiv tae be summit in particular? Or kin it be temporary?

Ahm like that: it’s almost as if ah dont care. Mibbe naw oan a buildin site, wi it bein the middle ae winter the noo like. Other than that, ah dont mind.

He’s like that: he kid ask his auld man fur me.

Ah dont know if ah want ye tae. He got me the flat. Any mair ae this an’ yir faither’ll be runnin ma hale fuckin life.