Skagboys

by Irvine Welsh

  — Ah’m steyin in ma ain hoose! Ah kin look eftir masel!

  — You’ll dae something stupid. Wi Dickson.

  — Ah’m gaunny kill um! It’s him that’s done aw this tae us. Him!

  The cabbie checks us out in the mirror, but ah keep my gaze riveted on him and the nosy-beaked cunt soon switches his miserable, budgerigar eyes back onto the poxy road, where they fucking well belong.

  The cab trundles down to Cables Wynd House, and ah reluctantly pay the fare. Maria exits swiftly n ah have tae run tae catch up with her. For a few anxious seconds I fear she’s bolted and ah’ll be locked oot, but she’s waiting in the stair for us wi a challenging pout. We climb up tae oor landing and she opens the door. — Leave Dickson tae me, ah gently urge, as we enter the cold flat.

  She crumples onto the couch wi her heid in her hands, her bottom lip hanging doon. Her body trembles lightly and there’s mair waterworks. Ah switch on the lecky fire n gingerly sit doon next tae her. — It’s only natural that ye want revenge, ah totally understand that, ah say in an even, soft voice, — but Coke was ma mate, and Janey’s ma friend, so ah’m gaunny see that Dickson peys, and ah dinnae want you involved!

  She birls roond tae me, blinded by snotters, rendered as repulsive as that bird in The Exorcist, and rasps, — But ah am fuckin involved! Muh dad’s deid! Muh ma’s in the fuckin jail! And he’s doon thaire, she points ootside the big window, — walkin the streets a free man, pullin fuckin pints ay beer like nowt’s happened!

  Suddenly she springs up and she’s charging oot the door. Ah’m right eftir her. But she’s absolutely demented as ah hastily pursue her doon the stairs. — Where ye gaun, Maria?!

  — AH’M GAUNNY FUCKIN WELL TELL UM!

  At the bottom ay the stair, she tears across the concourse, doon the side street and tae the boozer, wi me a step behind. — Fuck sake, Maria! Ah grab her thin shoodir.

  But she shimmies oot ay ma grip, throws open the door and runs intae the middle ay the pub, me follayin behind. Every head turns tae stare at us. Dickson, tae my great surprise, has actually resumed his duties behind the bar. He’s idly talking tae a crony and daein the crossword. He raises his heid in response tae the deafening silence that fills the room. But no for long. — MURDERER! Maria screams, pointing at him. — YOU MURDERED MA DAD, YA BASTARD! YOU MUR … She starts choking as the fit ay frustration drains her, and ah grab her in a lock under her airms, and ah’m pulling her oot the door, as ah hear Dickson’s smug but weak reply: — It’s no what the coorts said …

  Ah’ve got her ootside but the air seems to revive her. — LIT US GO, she roars, face mangled wi fury and grief. Ah’m struggling like fuck as her slender frame’s fortified by hysteria and rage, and ah really feel like slapping her like they do in the films, but then it subsides, and she’s greeting and whimpering in my airms and ah’m leading her doon the street and across the car park and back up the stairs, thinking that this was how it was meant tae pan out.

  And as ah get her back indoors, and oan the couch, it’s almost like her sherriking ay Dickson wis a bad dream, because she’s in my airms and ah’m stroking her hair, telling her it’s gaunny be alright. Telling her that ah’ll stey here with her as long as she wants and we’re gaunny get this Dickson cunt thegither, her and me …

  — Will we? she asks in demented hunger, hyperventilating. — Me n you?

  — Count on it, princess. Count. On. It. That fucking bum put Coke in his grave and, for aw we ken, Janey in the jail, and ah focus my spiteful, vengeful face oan hers. — He. Is. Fucking. Well. Getting. It.

  — We’ll fuckin well kill that murderin bastard!

  — You and me. Believe it!

  — Ye mean it? she begs.

  Ah look right intae her desolate eyes. — I swear oan ma mother and sisters’ lives.

  She nods slowly at me. I can feel her tense body unwind a notch.

  — But … we have tae box clever. If we’re careless, we end up like Janey. Do you understand?

  A blank, sluggish bow of her head.

  — Think aboot it, I stress. — If we just steam in thaire and slaughter him, we spend the rest ay our lives in jail. We huv tae be free tae savour it, tae enjoy the fact that we’re daein oor thing while that bastard is drooling in a wheelchair or fucking well buried in some shallow ditch!

  Her breathing slows down. Ah’m hudin her hands in mine.

  — We have tae think aboot this. And when we strike our hearts have tae be as cauld as ice. As cauld as that cunt’s doon thaire, ah point outside, — or he wins. He’s goat the polis and courts on his side. That means we wait, play it cool, and suss out his weak spots before we strike. Because if we git sloppy or emotional, he wins again. We cannot let him win again. Ye ken what I’m sayin here?

  — Ma heid … it’s a nightmare … ah dinnae ken what tae dae …

  — Listen tae me. We’ll get him, I stress, and she’s nodding and settling down, her hand on her forehead.

  Ah feel sufficiently mollified tae get oot ma works and start cooking up.

  The spark ay the lighter causes Maria’s neck tae whip round. — What are ye daein …? Her eyes widen.

  — Ah’m sorry, it’s your house, ah should have asked. Ah’m fixing masel up a wee shot ay skag.

  — What? What’s that? Is that … is that heroin?

  — Aye. Listen, this is between you and me. Ah’m no proud ay it, but ah’ve been daein it a wee bit. Ah’m gaunny kick it intae touch, but, well, ah just sort ay need it at the moment. Since your dad … ah feel my head shaking, as ah look at her red, torn face, — … ah just feel so down, so powerless …

  Maria’s face is as immobile as porcelain. Her eyes are locked onto the bubbling liquid dissolving in the spoon. — This is the only thing that takes away the pain … ah tell her. — Ah’m gaunny take a wee yin, just tae keep the heebie-jeebies at bay. After aw, ye dinnae want tae get a serious habit, but it has been a fucking stressful day.

  So ah’m sucking up the solution through the cotton ball, then piercing my flesh with the point ay the needle. As ah draw some blood back, filling the chamber, Maria’s eyes are darkening, as if some inky fluid is thickening behind them too. My blood goes back in slowly, but ah feel no pressure ay my hand on the plunger, it’s like ma veins are sucking it in fae the syringe …

  YA FUCKAH … YA FUCKIN BEAUTY … AH AM IMMORTAL, INVINCIBLE …

  — Ah want some … ah hear Maria utter, in a choking gasp ay need.

  — No way … it’s not good stuff, ah tell her, sweating back oantae the sofa, gurgling like a rapturous infant as the gear unravels through me like a nursery rhyme. Then there’s that almost honey-like nausea at my core … Ah take tight inhalations, letting ma breathing slowly regulate.

  — What are you daein it for then?

  — Ah’ve been feeling bad … sometimes ye feel so bad … it’s the only thing that helps …

  So baaaad …

  — But ah feel bad! What aboot me! she says, her face going pinched and for a vaguely troubling second ah can see both Janey and Coke in it. — You sais ye would help me!

  Ah look sadly at her, taking her trembling hands in mine. — You’re a beautiful young girl, and ah dinnae want ye takin drugs … God, she is a shattered angel, cast doon tae this dark and despicable hovel. — … Ah mean, ah’m meant tae be taking care ay ye … no making things worse for ye. Ah shake my heid and feel the blood moving slowly through it. — No way …

  — They cannae git any worse! she bellows, then seems tae think ay her current predicament. — But … but … just a wee bit, like you sais, she begs again, — jist tae make things feel better …

  I feel ma breath pulling fae my chest, the same tight, drawing resistance a syringe plunger makes when you pull it back, that lovely sealed tug … — Okay, but this is a one-off … this is fucked up … n it goes against ma better judgement … just a wee bit, mind, tae relax ye. Ah stroke the side ay her face gently. — Then we work oot how tae get Dickson …

  — T
hanks, Simon …

  — Ye must feel that the whole world’s comin tae an end, ah nod as ah line up a fair auld dunt for her. — This’ll help ye, babe; this’ll take the pain away.

  Her face is weak and bewildered as ah wrap my leather tie roond her thin, white airm and tap her vein up. Nice wiring she’s got n aw. This wee yin craves, needs, oblivion, and the only decent thing tae dae is tae oblige a damsel in distress …

  Ah gie it tae her one way, watching her groan softly and melting back intae the couch. — That feels good … it’s nice … it’s barry …

  Then ah lay her down, resting her head on the couch armrest, tae prepare her tae get it the other way. — But you’re the woman ay the hoose now, and you’ve got tae be strong for Grant. We baith need tae keep everything thegither here. For your ma’s sake and your dad’s memory. We’ll go and see her soon, ah tell her, sweeping that fringe ootay her eyes and back across her foreheid, — okay, darlin?

  — Aye … she says, looking at me, eyes glazed like shiny silver coins.

  — Is that better?

  — Aye … it feels nice … ah never thought ah’d feel this good again …

  — We’ll get Dickson; he’s ours. You and me, we’ll make that bastard pay, I whisper. Ah’m kneeling on the floor alongside her outstretched magnificence. Ah slide a hand under her heid, raising it up and slipping a cushion under it. — But just you relax the now. You’ve had a tough time. Want me tae lie wi ye … n hold ye?

  A slow affirmative nod. — You’re right nice tae us … and her hand rises and caresses the side ay ma face. Ah bend in closer towards those big wasp-stung lips.

  — Course I am. You’re nice tae be nice tae. Now gie’s a wee kiss.

  She looks at me wi a sad smile and kisses me on the cheek.

  — Naw, naw, naw, babe, that’s nae good. A proper woman’s kiss, like.

  And those lips are on mine and that tongue is in my mouth, and for now it’s aw her work. Ah close ma eyes, briefly thinking aboot poor Janey, making soft toys in Corton Vale for the next few months. As the judge said, an example has to made of individuals who would seek tae exploit those in genuine need through fraudulent practices. I think he quoted the Home Secretary verbatim. But it’ll be an education for Janey, she’ll be licking mair fannies than a GPO clerk will stamps. But right now ah’m mair concerned wi her daughter’s tuition, cause it’s getting better with these long, wet kisses. Yes it is; ah’m certainly feeling nae pain. Cause she’s mine now. Ah break off and tell Maria’s sad, sexy, junked eyes, — Ah’ll never leave ye, no like the others. Everything’s gaunny be okay now.

  A mournful smile moulds her features. — Ye mean that, Simon?

  — Aye, I tell her, and ah’ve never been more sincere about anything in my fucking life, — I most serpently do.

  Same Again

  THERE’S ME GETTING off the number 1 at the fit ay Easter Road ootside the Persevere pub when ah see Lizzie McIntosh running for the bus, tryin tae keep control ay her big art-college folder that’s being pushed and pulled by the gales. She is beyond gorgeous; sexy black boots ower woollen tights, a short red, black and yellay hooped skirt, or it might be a dress, ye cannae tell under that big broon overcoat, scerf n gloves. Her long broon hair’s one shade darker that the coat. — Hud on, mate, ah tell the driver, who’s about to pull away. Ah stick ma sports bag in on the platform in case he tries tae shut the doors, n git a sour look back for ma trouble.

  Worth it but, cause she looks even better when she comes closer; hardly any make-up, just a bit ay eyeliner and some cherry lippy. — Thanks … Tommy … she gasps as she steps past Fearless Tommy Gun oantae the bus stickin her money in the slot. — Ah’m late for this do … She smiles at us. Ya beauty!

  Well, faint hert never won fit bird, so: — That’s a drink you owe me, ah try it oan, you’ve goat tae, as ah watch the doors slap shut and the grumbling driver makes some comment before starting up the bus and pulling away.

  It’s cauld; it’s still October but there was a frost on the groond this morning and the pitches might be frozen. Much worse, fae a fitba viewpoint, is this shitey wind. But Rents is doon for the weekend fae Aberdeen, and we’re oot the night, then at Easter Road the morn for the derby. So ah nash up tae my sister Paula’s, tae dump the bag and get some scran doon. Ah got invited for my tea but ah’m no sure about her husband, this moaning-faced cunt fae Coventry who seems totally depressed aw the time. We can aw get that wey, but ye cannae let them beat ye and grind ye doon. Pecker up at aw times.

  That Lizzie but … phoar …

  So ah bolts the nosh doon n leaves my bag thaire and heads for the Volley, thinkin that ah’ll be the first yin in. Nae chance! Thaire’s a bunch sittin in the corner, wi Begbie haudin court, and he seems well chuffed tae see me. — Tommy boy! The very cunt!

  — Awright, chaps? Ah nod at Rents, whae’s wearin a rid-n-black-hooped Dennis the Menace jersey, then Nelly, whae’s goat another tattoo oan his coupon, an anchor oan the side ay his cheek! The daft cunt. — Fuckin jailbait! ah joke, pointin tae it, then gie a mair distrustin acknowledgement ay that Larry, a twisted wanker that ah dinnae huv much time fir, and Davie Mitchell, an auld fitba mate ay mine whae works wi Mark at Gillsland’s.

  We’re catchin up ower a few beers, huvin a crack. — D’ye git tae any Aberdeen games up thaire, Mark?

  — Naw … Rents says. It’s like he’s stoned on hash aw the time. Sits wi a big daft smile on his face. Used tae rip the pish oot ay stoners and love speed n aw. Typical student cunt! — Cannae be ersed, he goes, fiddling with this spec case.

  — You’ve no goat glesses, huv ye? Let us see!

  — Naw, he says, n pits them in the inside poakit ay his jean jaykit. Must be embarrassed, poor fucker. Joinin the specky and ginger club that Keezbo’s in!

  Lucky for him that Begbie’s talkin tae Nelly n Larry aboot tattoos, n they huvnae picked up oan it, so ah decide tae gie the four-eyed cunt a brek. Mark’s sound, but for a ginger cunt he can sometimes be a bit big-heided and vain.

  Begbie’s bendin his ear now. — How’s that Geordie bird yir seein? Fiona? He turns tae the rest ay us, pointin oot Rents. — Still waters run fuckin deep, right enough! No fuckin shy, this cunt!

  — Barry, man, she’s totally splendid, Mark smiles fondly. — She’s away tae Newcastle tae see her sister. It’s her birthday … ah mean, like, her sister’s birthday, ken?

  — If her fuckin sister’s anything like her, pit a fuckin word in for me, ya cunt, Franco says.

  — Will do, Rents goes wi that easy, wasted smile, but ye kin see that nowt would be further fae his mind. He turns tae Davie. — How’s the boys at Gillsland’s?

  — Awright. Les was askin eftir ye. Young Bobby n aw, the wee fuckin dingul. Ralphy’s still as much ay a cunt as ever, but, Mitch laughs.

  — That man … Renton mumbles, then sits up straight, — … that fucker defines cuntishness.

  — Aye, says Begbie, in darker tones, n ye kin tell he’s goat something oan his mind, — thaire’s a loat ay thum aboot.

  — What’s up? this Larry wanker goes tae Franco. Ah once had a run-in wi that cunt back at Leithy. He wis bullyin wee Phillip Hogan. Fuckin liberty-taker. Ye never forget these things.

  Franco’s voice drops in that scary wey, when ye kin hear him even mair clearly than when it’s at its normal pitch. — Jist been hearin a lot aboot this cunt fae Pilton; the slag’s brother, he goes, — ye’d think he’d shut his mooth eftir the wey the other two brars came doon here n goat fuckin dealt wi.

  — Aye, ah nod, pure thinkin aboot that poor cunt bleedin aw ower the taxi. That was fuckin excessive.

  — Well, this dippit big brother cunt’s been gaun oan aboot how he’s gaunny dae this, n how he’s gaunny dae that. Cunt seems tae huv some fuckin rep doon in Pilton, Franco scoffs.

  — So? Seems aw mooth tae me, ah goes, n Nelly nods in agreement.

  The thought cheers Begbie up. — Well, if ah’d been fuckin well killed by every cunt that sais ‘you’r
e deid’ tae us, ah’d hud tae huv hud ninety-nine fuckin lives!

  Ah’m aboot tae change the subject, then that Larry goes, aw snidey, — He’s meant tae be yin ay they karate boys. George Kerr-schooled. Black belt, they tell us.

  — Fuck that, Begbie sneers, — some cunt kicks yir fuckin baws in, karate’s no gaunny dae nowt against that. Does it fuckin well gie ye baws ay steel, then? he asks Larry.

  — Naw … he’s weasellin ootay it, — but ah’m jist sayin –

  — Well, dinnae jist fuckin say, Begbie cuts um oaf.

  Ah dinnae like where this is headin. Supposed tae be a few quiet peeves, then the big game the morn. Thaire’s ey a charged atmosphere at the weekend ay a derby game; it’s like a full-moon thing. — Ah think ye made the point, Franco, ah goes, n ah makes this chibbin motion n gits a wee grin offay him. — It’ll be aw bluster. These cunts’ll no be keen tae come ahead in a hurry eftir that.

  — Aye, the cunt’s brother’s like a fuckin pincushion now, Nelly laughs.

  Ah’m lookin tae Begbie but his coupon’s gone that staney wey again. Ah ken that look. — Aye, but ye cannae make the point enough wi some cunts, but. Ah’m still hearin garbage comin fae this big brother cunt’s mooth. It’s like the wey things ur fuckin well gaun these days, yuv goat tae fuckin well kill some cunt tae get taken fuckin seriously. He looks aroond the table n makes the declaration: — Wir gaun doon thaire tae huv a wee fuckin blether wi this Hong Kong Fuey cunt!

  Ah feel masel swallyin hard wi nowt in ma throat. — When likes?

  — Nae time like the fuckin present. Franco’s boatum lip curls doon. — Pey a wee fuckin visit. Huv a wee fuckin word wi the cunt.

  Ah look aroond at the boys. They’re aw game. Even Mark, whae’s just doon for the weekend, smiles and goes, — Why not?

  — You’re no comin, Franco goes.

  Mark looks at him, aw biscuit-ersed. — How no?

  — You’ve goat that fuckin college. Yir no fuckin aw that up. This isnae your business. You’ve goat yir mate thaire. He points tae Mitch.