‘I want to practise my keepy-uppies and you’re in my way. Where is everyone anyway?’
‘In for their tea,’ says Dirty Alice.
‘Why are you not in for your tea?’ I ask.
‘Because Louisa Connor is in there making us shite and peas to eat and I won’t touch her food. I won’t.’
‘That’s daft,’ I say. ‘You’ll starve.’
‘I hate her.’
‘You can still hate her and have your dinner,’ I say.
Dirty Alice thinks on this while her tummy grumbles like mad. ‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’
‘I’m cleverer than you,’ I say. ‘Why did you blame me for the broken window, Alice? Did you really think people would believe I’d do something like that? It was stupid of you.’
She goes red. ‘I’m sorry, Michael,’ she says. ‘I didn’t mean it. I was just mad at stupid Louisa Connor.’
‘She’s a nice lady. You’ll get used to her.’ My ball slips from my knee and rolls under a car.
‘You’re rubbish at keepy-uppies,’ Alice snips and then walks away to her house so she can chew on her shite and peas and still hate Louisa Connor. She’s a bitch, that Alice, even if she is sorry for blaming me for crimes I did not commit.
I think Louisa is the most beautiful name in the world and when I have a baby one day I hope it will be a girl with hair like Blondie and a face like Mrs Connor.
I practise my keepy-uppies like mad and Marianne, who has finished her tea, comes out to the car park. I think she’s going to practise her songs, but she doesn’t, she watches me do my keepy-uppies for a while and I love it. She looks like she’s never seen such skill.
‘I’m going to play for Celtic one day,’ I tell her.
‘I bet you do, Michael,’ she says.
I love that she says this.
‘Do you like me, Michael?’ she says.
I almost faint.
‘You’re all right,’ I say but my heart is thumping like a ball on concrete.
‘You want to go somewhere with me?’ she says.
‘Where?’ I say.
‘Down there,’ she says.
It’s the bushes, the long bushes where no one can see you. It’s where kissing and all sorts of things go on and if someone sees you coming out of the bushes with a girl you get the hiding of your life and the girl is kept indoors for ever and ever. It’s worse than being caught behind a shed because you can do anything you like in the bushes and the penalty for being caught is merciless. I want to take Mrs Connor to the bushes.
‘All right,’ I say.
Marianne runs to the bushes. She doesn’t care about being caught. She doesn’t care about anything. When I get there I am cold with the trembles because at last I am going to kiss Marianne Cameron. I wonder how I should start, maybe like Paul with my hand on her shoulder, but I don’t get a chance to even think about it, Marianne kisses me full on the face and puts her tongue in my mouth. I push her away. It’s disgusting.
‘It’s French-kissing,’ she says. ‘Everyone does it.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Because you don’t know how. I’ll show you.’
‘OK,’ I say. ‘But don’t put your whole tongue in and not so quickly,’ I say.
She nods and she’s gentle this time and it’s nice, I suppose, but I still hate it and push her away. It’s like eating ham.
‘I don’t like it,’ I say. ‘Can’t we do it without your tongue?’ I say.
‘OK,’ she says.
‘Lie back,’ I tell her.
She lies back. I get on top of her and put my lips on her lips and push really hard and move my head around like I’ve seen on the TV. She holds me tight but then she opens her mouth again and bites my top lip and I get off her then. It is sore and horrible. I’m very sad about the whole thing to be honest. I always thought kissing Marianne Cameron would be the most amazing thing in the entire universe, but it isn’t. She’s like a big wet dog. I feel embarrassed.
‘Michael,’ she says, ‘you want to see something?’
‘OK,’ I say.
‘But you can’t tell anyone,’ she says.
‘All right,’ I say.
She lifts up her skirts, pulls down her knickers and shows me her fanny. I’ve seen a fanny before. Paul MacDonald has a collection of them in his gorgeous magazines with the beautiful women, but this is different, and so I run away and think Marianne Cameron is a terrible girl. I want to tell my da but I can’t because then I would have to tell him about the bushes and the wet tongue and the wiggling about on top of Marianne Cameron and I don’t think he should know about these things.
I go straight home instead and even though Granny has bought ice cream from the van, my very favourite, I go straight upstairs and put my pyjamas on. I tell my da I am tired and don’t feel well. Everyone believes me because I am never sick and they know it is serious because I like ice cream more than anything in the world and would do anything to eat it, except today. Ma checks my head and says it’s a little warm. Da looks worried and Granny says she’ll put the ice cream in the freezer for me.
‘You can have it later,’ she says.
I turn on my side. I feel like crying. It is the worst day of my life.
FOURTEEN
THE WAR IS over and a man called Simon Weston is badly wounded. He is burned all over his body and has no face. He is a hero and everyone loves him.
‘It’s a terrible thing not to have a face,’ says Da.
‘It’s a terrible thing to have two of them,’ laughs Granny.
Ma laughs hard, she’s laughing more now, it’s a miracle, but Da goes mental and slams his fists so hard on the table the cups filled with tea spill to the floor.
‘Will no one talk about serious things in this house? Look at the man.’ He waves the paper in their faces. ‘He can’t run from his troubles. He looks at them every day in the mirror and he doesn’t turn away like a coward.’ He sits down, his face red with rage.
‘What the fuck do you know about serious things?’ says Ma. ‘You don’t even have a job and you haven’t even tried to find one.’
‘There are no jobs on this island!’ yells Da.
‘Then leave the fucking island. Go to the mainland. Travel on the boat every day. It’s not hard, Brian.’
‘Not for you, Rosemary, with your bloody professor to keep you company.’
‘Not this again.’
‘I can’t believe you told him,’ says Da. ‘Why would you do that? It’s supposed to be a secret. We’re going mad trying to keep it and you tell the first person that comes along. How could you do that to us?’
‘Do what?’
‘Tell a stranger.’
‘He’s not a stranger to me,’ screams Ma.
She stomps out of the room, she’s going anywhere to get away from Da, but he won’t be left behind in the kitchen and follows her to the stairs. I don’t know why everyone stomps everywhere in this house. It’s a small house and there are only a few places you can go anyhow. There’s the living room, the hall or one of the bedrooms upstairs. Never the bathroom, which I think is a good place to go because it has a lock on the door.
‘You think I don’t know what’s going on in Greenock, Rosemary, at your fancy college?’ he yells. ‘I’m no fool.’
I wonder what’s going on in Greenock.
From the top of the stairs she yells, ‘Not a bloody thing. I’m learning and you can’t stand it. He’s my teacher.’
‘But why did you tell him?’
‘I had no one else to tell,’ she screams.
‘You said no one was to know and the shite I’ve had to put up with on account of it, it isn’t fair. If you’re going to tell people then let’s tell people here, let’s tell the police. I can’t take another evil eye. Even in church the pew is all mine, no fucker will sit near me because they think I bash my wife.’
Granny can’t send me anywhere because it’s too late. I’ve already heard about the teacher
and the secret Ma told him and I can’t be sent out of the house because it’s too dark and I can’t be sent to my room because Ma and Da are fighting on the stairs and blocking the way to my bedroom.
‘I felt someone else had to know. He won’t say anything. He’s a nice man. My work is suffering because of it. I don’t want to fail this course. I can’t fail. You’d like him. He’s a nice man.’
‘Your fancy man. I don’t think so.’
‘He’s ready for retirement, you stupid bastard.’
The room is silenced and Da really does feel like a stupid B-word.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I still think we need help with this. You’re running around like a fart in a trance. You can’t go on like this.’
I laugh because saying fart in a trance is funny to me.
‘Not in front of the boy, you two,’ says Granny.
They see me and smile. They feel bad. I’ll get money out of this for sure.
‘I know what I’m doing, Brian, but you have to trust me.’
‘I trust you, Rosemary, I worry for you. You can’t blame a man for that.’
Ma disappears into her room where she keeps the special pills that help her sleep. I found them looking for my da’s chewing gum. Ma told him his breath stinks and so he chews at it all day. For a minute I thought the pills were gum, a new kind, but Da was right behind me.
‘What you looking for, Michael?’
‘Some gum,’ I said.
‘Here you go,’ said Da, lifting some from the table.
‘Off you go,’ he said.
‘What are these?’ I said.
‘Pills to help Ma get some shut-eye, to help us all get some shut-eye, but don’t be touching them, all right? You’ll get poisoned. They’re not for children.’
Da said Ma’s teacher in Greenock helped her find them. Da was not pleased. He is afraid of men for Ma’s sake, but since she sleeps without screaming now he is also grateful, especially now he knows the teacher is old enough to marry my granny.
‘It is a good thing for us all,’ said Granny. ‘Your ma has to sleep.’
FIFTEEN
MA AND GRANNY roll their eyes when it is the summer holidays. They never know what to do with me. Neither does Da. We don’t go on holidays much. Other people do. They go to Butlins or visit relatives in Glasgow and act like it’s Mallorca or something. Some people actually go to Mallorca, like the McCabes. They love Mallorca and come back all brown and happy. Hairy McCabe is always showing off when she gets back about the fancy chewing gum you get in Spain, like we don’t have chewing gum here in Scotland, but everyone always crowds round her like it’s the best chewing gum the world has ever seen because it says ‘Chicle’. Then she talks about the price and it’s always really expensive, which makes her stupid for buying it as far as I’m concerned when she can get it for half the price at home, but it’s always amazing to everyone how much the chewing gum costs in Mallorca. It’s the same with Mars bars and Marathons, they cost pounds in Mallorca or so Hairy McCabe says. Mallorca is stupid. I like Rothesay best. We have beaches and every year the fair comes and we get goldfish. Mine always die after a few weeks but I don’t mind because the next year I’ll get a new one. I love the summer holidays, no one yelling at you to get out of bed, and it’s always nice and warm except when it’s raining and cold. Also the talent show is soon, but I can hardly look at Marianne Cameron right now. She is a different girl to me. I tell no one about the bushes and neither does she, she would die of shame and I wouldn’t blame her. What a show. Anyway, Dirty Alice would have said something if she knew and to everyone in the whole wide world most likely. Marianne acts like nothing has happened and sings even louder when I’m around. I try not to listen even when she’s really good and makes people open their doors and sit on their steps peeling their potatoes or carrots. Sometimes Skinny Rab will bring a fag out and listen against the wall next to Marianne’s ma. I wonder if they’re still fighting like mad people.
Dirty Alice isn’t saying much these days, which is a good thing because she’s usually such a blabbermouth. Mr McFadden and Mrs Connor go everywhere together. It must make her sick with rage.
Da says it’s nice to see Mr McFadden looking so happy. Ma says the same and so does Granny. They like Mrs Connor better these days since she has a regular man in her life with two children.
‘She’s turned herself around all right,’ says Ma.
‘And seeing to that girl like she was her own daughter, which can’t be easy with the lip she gets from her. Hair brushed. Shoes shined. Not so dirty any more,’ says Granny.
She’ll always be Dirty Alice to me, I think.
‘She’s a good woman. Haven’t I been telling you that for years?’ says Da.
Paul MacDonald’s changed his tune too.
‘I think Dirty Alice is looking all right now,’ he says to me.
‘She’s a dog,’ I say.
‘She has nice long hair,’ says Fat Ralph.
Paul MacDonald is girl mad but Fat Ralph isn’t, not usually, and to notice Dirty Alice and her hair makes me angry and so I call him a poof.
‘You want hair like Dirty Alice, don’t you?’ I say.
‘No, I’m just saying it’s long and shiny. What’s wrong with having hair that’s shiny?’
‘Nothing, unless you want it for yourself,’ I say.
‘I was just saying,’ says Ralph.
‘Well, don’t,’ I say.
It made me fairly annoyed Dirty Alice was being noticed at all and I was upset at Fat Ralph because of all the people in the world he knows how much I hate Dirty Alice, even if her hair is shiny.
Fat Ralph and I are not as friendly as we used to be. He’s hanging around with Paul, who’s not dribbling in the talent show any more. He’s going to be bobbing about with Fat Ralph doing something stupid probably and they haven’t asked me to bob about with them. I’m definitely not asking so I hope they make an arse of themselves, maybe one of them will fall over and split their head open or something like that. I can do fifty keepy-uppies in two minutes without dropping one time. Ma is going to be so proud of me, so is Da and Granny.
Marianne has asked Tracey and Fiona to sing the song about the Japanese boy. This talent show is getting serious now and I’m wondering if it might actually happen. Tracey and Fiona have to wear their mas’ housecoats and paint their faces white and use eyeliner like Mrs Connor does on her eyes, all curly and dark. Tracey and Fiona are right excited. Marianne has also asked Dirty Alice to do the Highland fling. I don’t understand why Marianne doesn’t want to do everything any more. She’s great at everything. My ma says it’s called ‘delegating’ and Marianne is a clever girl to be sharing the responsibility.
‘Singing every song will hurt her throat and be boring for everyone else. There are other girls that can sing around here. She’s right to give them a chance,’ says Ma.
I think maybe I should sing with the boys but I’d get laughed at and I don’t like to be laughed at. I’ll stick to the football. It’s more man-like.
Anyway, Ma doesn’t know anything about Marianne. I think she isn’t singing all the songs because of Tricia Law. Marianne is sad and is afraid to sing probably. She knows we all know the scandal of her life and doesn’t want us looking at her or something, except me, she let me look at her all right, but it was a different kind of looking. I hope she doesn’t show it to anyone else because that would not be good for her reputation.
‘Reputation is everything,’ says Granny.
SIXTEEN
IN THE NOTICES section of the local newspaper it says that Louisa Madeline Connor will marry Samuel John McFadden and that they’re delighted to announce it. When Da sees Mr McFadden he slaps him on the back and wishes him well. Ma and Granny give Mrs Connor a hug, except she’s not Mrs Connor any more and never was. She’s Miss Connor.
‘A Miss is someone who’s not married. Connor was her maiden name, Michael,’ says Ma.
‘So why does everyone call her Mrs Co
nnor?’ I ask.
‘No one does, only you. You call everyone Mrs,’ says Ma.
‘I do not,’ I say.
‘It’s an easy mistake to make. You’re still young.’
Telling me I am young annoys me. My ma thinks I’m a baby all the time. Anyway they don’t hate Miss Connor any more, they call her Louisa because she’s going to be a married woman, and she’s not a slut any more or a prostitute. Also there will be a big party at the Bowling Club everyone will go to. Granny and Ma like a good party, especially Granny because she gets to sneak a few brandies into her hip flask. That’s what Da says anyway.
Dirty Alice is furious about the whole thing. Everyone is a little afraid of Dirty Alice right now, everyone except me. I have beaten Paul MacDonald and I am the toughest lad in the world, but still, I don’t want to be rolling around the grass with Dirty Alice McFadden to prove it. She broke a window and says ‘fuck’ all the time, she also bit Fat Ralph on the leg. I bet he doesn’t care about her shiny hair now. Da says she needs a good hiding. Ma says she needs to move on and Granny says the whole family needs a priest to remove the angry spirit of Dirty Alice’s ma, who is probably not keen on the wedding at all.
‘She is probably up there not liking it one bit. The children need a mother but they also need a woman who goes to church and Maria was nothing if she wasn’t a good Catholic.’
‘Louisa’s not a Catholic, Ma, she’s divorced, so Maria up in heaven will have to lump it,’ says Da.
‘I suppose she will. He has a mother for Alice and Luke, that’s the main thing,’ says Granny.
‘He’s a lovely boy,’ says Ma.
Always on about Luke, I bet he’ll be a bridesmaid.
Ma is in an especially good mood because she passed all her exams and she can now go on to the next level of her Open University course, which she is delighted about. Da has also decided to be delighted about it and doesn’t care about the professor any more and we all have a heavy cake Granny bakes to celebrate. Da gets indigestion because of it and Ma has a small piece so as not to offend Granny, who thinks she’s a brilliant baker. Da says we have birds in the sky that wouldn’t eat the crumbs in our garden. I have a big piece because I like the frosting. Granny makes nice frosting. It’s not all bad with her baking.
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