by Ross Sayers
First published in 2020 by Gob Stopper
Gob Stopper is an imprint of Cranachan Publishing Limited
Copyright © Ross Sayers 2020
The moral right of Ross Sayers to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1-911279-77-8
eISBN: 978-1-911279-78-5
Glasgow Subway Illustration © Charlie Care
The publisher acknowledges receipt of the Scottish Government’s Scots Language Publication Grant towards this publication.
www.cranachanpublishing.co.uk
@cranachanbooks
For Gran and Agnes,
who are both rarely seen
without a book in one hand
and a glass of red in the other.
Part One
Adult, Single
1
‘Do you consider yourself a guarded person, Daisy?’
‘How? Wis someone talkin aboot me?’
Through the office blinds, ah see a pair ae eyes tryin tae huv a swatch at us fae the corridor. They disappear afore ah can work oot if ah recognise them.
Across fae me, Siobhan smiles and shakes her heid. When Siobhan smiles and disnae reply, it means please go on. She hus a wide range ae smiles. The I wouldn’t quite agree with that smile. The I don’t understand that reference smile. The You’re only here because another student dropped out and you managed to jump the stupidly long counselling queue by giving worrying answers in the online mental health and wellbeing questionnaire smile. Mibbe ah jist imagined that last yin.
We’re meant tae be pals, me and Siobhan. Ah call her Siobhan insteid ae Dr Livingstone and everyhin.
‘No one’s been talking about you,’ Siobhan says. ‘I’m just trying to get to know you, Daisy. We’ve had a few sessions now and I don’t feel I’ve got you to come out of your shell very much.’
She says that lit it’s a bad hing. Whit is she comparin me tae? A turtle? Whaur wid a turtle be withoot its shell? Up shite creek, that’s whaur. Stomped under the heel ae some great big bugger wi nae way tae defend itsel. Turtles need shells. People need shells tae. Otherwise ye’re aw soft belly and anybody can jist splat ye whenever they fancy. See that way turtles sook their heid and arms back intae their shell when thur feart? Ah wish ah could dae that.
‘How’s the last couple of weeks been?’ Siobhan asks.
‘Fine.’
‘Just fine?’
‘Jist fine.’
‘What have you been up to?’
‘Nuhin interestin.’
‘Why don’t you tell me anyway. I find most things interesting.’
Siobhan still likes tae huv her boundaries and she’s strict when she needs tae be. We keep up appearances that we’re pals but we’re no really. If ah say suhin and she hinks it’s stupit, she disnae go on her group chat and slag me aff lit an actual, normal pal. She tells me tae ma face, lit some kind ae well-adjusted adult.
‘Okay,’ ah say, runnin ma fing’rnails along the upholstery ae this stiff seat she makes me sit in. The new chair smell still lingers. ‘Ah watched a lot ae It’s Always Sunny.’
The I don’t understand that reference smile.
‘And what’s that?’
She moves her notepad fae the armrest ae the chair tae her lap. She uses a red pen lit a teacher which ah hink is a bit on the nose. Thur’s stuff written doon but ah niver saw her write it. Ah cannae mind huvin said anyhin worth writin doon.
‘It’s a programme,’ ah say. ‘Every season’s up on Netflix. Ah spent a few days camped oot on the couch re-watchin it, since uni’s done fur Christmas and ah don’t feel that sense ae guilt every wakin moment that ah’m no daein coursework. Aw the characters urr complete pricks. It’s great.’
‘Yes, I can see why that would appeal.’
Normally, when ah finish a sentence, Siobhan nods then takes her time tae reply, lit she’s really hinkin aboot whit ah said. Lit she’s really lookin fur the deeper meanin in ma chat.
The clock on the wall ticks and tocks tae fill the silence. In the corridor, a woman walks by the office windae, wearin a blue Santa hat wi a wee bell on the end ae it. The jingle-jangle she makes as she walks can jist aboot be heard through the glass.
‘What else?’ Siobhan asks. ‘Oh, have you been taking notes on your phone like I asked you to?’
And there wis me hinkin she’d furgot the homework assignment she set me. Please keep a short diary of what you get up to each day. Ah take ma phone oot ma pocket and open up the notes app. It’s full ae useless shite that ah shid probably delete, lit auld shoppin lists and draft messages tae boys that ah niver end up sendin anyway. Sometimes ah wonder if anybody oot there hus a draft message in their notes fur me. Probably no.
‘They’re no exactly detailed,’ ah tell her.
‘That’s fine.’
‘Honestly, it’s barely even worth it.’
‘Let’s hear what you’ve got, please.’
Ah huff and puff while ah scroll tae the first note ah made, as if the exertion is really takin it oot ae me.
‘Wednesday 6th ae December,’ ah read on the screen. ‘Ah went tae the pub tae watch the Liverpool game. Frances and Sam were baith busy. We won 7-0.’
Thur’s spellin mistakes in every other word. Ah swear ah only ever mind tae write stuff doon when ah’m three rum and cokes deep. But spellin’s subjective, eh?
Siobhan hits me wi another please go on smile. Ah shift in ma seat tae get comfy. Probably best tae jist rattle through these and get it ower wi.
‘Thursday the 7th, ah hud tae work the close at work. Maggie’s brother works at Central Station and some mad guy pushed him on tae the train tracks. Maggie hud tae go tae the hospital and ah wis the only yin that could cover the tills. Ah wis—furgive ma language—no fuckin best pleased.
‘Friday the 8th, hud a seminar first hing then went straight hame. Thought aboot goin fur a run but ah could feel shinsplints comin on jist sittin on the couch so ah hud another rest day tae be safe.
‘Saturday the 9th, went oot in toon. Catty. The Cathoose.’ Ah explain fur Siobhan’s benefit. I’m no sure if she wis a Catty gurl back in her day or no. ‘Don’t mind much. Frances says ah got aff wi some random lassie, but ah don’t mind it so ah’m fairly sure she wis windin me up.’
Ah checked the Catty Facebook page the next day and thur wis nae photie evidence. These nightclub photographers urr lit panthers, creepin aboot in the shadows, only seen when they want tae be seen.
‘Sunday the 10th, maistly spent hungover in bed, feelin sorry fur masel. Ah hud the fear til aboot half three when ma McDonald’s arrived. The delivery guy wis flirtin wi me but, come on mate, ye spilled hauf ma strawberry milkshake on the way ower here. Ah widnae let ye gie me a backie, that’s aw ah’ll say on the matter.
‘Monday the 11th, me and Frances hud pizza at Bier Halle, two fur wan. We wur meant tae go tae this other pub but Frances read an article online sayin they’d found mice in the same chain in Glasgow, so she overruled me. Ah quite like mice, as it happens.
‘Tuesday the 12th, fairly sure somebdy’s stealin fae me or ah’ve got memory loss cause ma claithes keep goin missin. Spent the mornin lookin fur ma favourite purple jumper. Still AWOL. Aw, and on that note, thur wis a day whaur ah wis pure para cause ah foun
d the flat door unlocked and ah wis sure ah’d locked it. Ah hink the two urr connected.
‘Thursday the 14th, tried tae get ma phone upgraded but the Apple shop wis shut. Apparently, they’d found a note on Buchanan Street written by some wife who said she wis gonnae attack the manager and they closed the shop as a precaution. Which didnae help me, aw the way intae toon fur nuhin.’
Ah lock ma phone, which hus a dodgy home button cause ah’ve still no been back tae the Apple shop since then.
‘That’s aw ah’ve got,’ ah tell Siobhan. ‘Some days ah wid jist furget tae dae it. Ah’m no really a diary kind ae person.’
Siobhan shifts on her chair and scrunches up her face. It’s the same kind ae face ah make every time ah walk in this room and smell that lavender hingy she keeps by the door.
‘I can’t help but notice,’ Siobhan says. ‘There’s something fairly… important you didn’t make note of.’
Ma heart beats faster. Boom boom boom boom. Deep breaths, Daisy, deep breaths. Ah stare at the flair insteid ae meetin her eye. Is she gonnae note this doon? Can she hear ma heart fae across the room? Daisy’s heart rate increased and she couldn’t make eye contact and this indicates… something. It disnae mean anyhin. No everyhin means suhin.
You are such a waste of space she hates you and no wonder. Couldn’t even keep a diary right.
The words come eventually.
‘D’ye mean that ma stepda died six days ago?’
2
‘It was Steven, wasn’t it?’
Fur a minute there, ah really thought ah could come in here, talk aboot whit telly ah’ve watched the last couple ae weeks and then leave.
Ah suppose ah still could. But Siobhan widnae be happy wi me. It’s kind ae lit ma piano lessons in high school. Ah widnae practise and then ah’d make an erse ae ma chords in front ae ma tutor and feel heavy guilty. Then ah’d tell masel ah’d definitely practise fur next week cause ah didnae want tae go through that again. Ah’ll definitely practise ma answers fur ma next counsellin session.
‘Aye,’ ah say. ‘His name wis Steven.’
The red pen springs intae action. This must be lit counsellin dynamite fur her.
‘How did it happen?’ she asks.
‘Well, ah imagine his parents started callin him it and it jist stuck.’
We’re past the smiley part ae the session. Siobhan makes great big swoops on her pad. Daisy is making jokes to mask the pain. Ah could be a counsellor nae bother.
‘Come on, Daisy. I only know about this because you WhatsApp’d me to tell me. You obviously know this is a big deal and that we’ll need to discuss it. How did he die?’
Thur’s a photie ae Siobhan and her husband on her desk. Any time ah’ve tried tae find oot anyhin aboot her hame life, she dodges the question. I wouldn’t bore you. Ah wonder if she’s got kids. Thur probably ma age if she does. Ah wonder if she makes them keep a diary on their phone tae.
‘Ma mum phoned on Saturday night,’ ah say. ‘Ah patched it and she left a message. Ah wis hauf asleep when ah listened tae it, then ah accidentally deleted it efter. Niver been able tae work ma voicemail; it’s useless. The general gist ae the message wis Steven hud some kind ae heart attack on Saturday night. Ah dunno whit brought it on. Ah vaguely mind her sayin suhin aboot… trouble at the pub? They took him tae the hospital but he wis awready gone.’
‘And how did that make you feel?’
Noo there’s a question. Ah could be honest. Tell her ah didnae feel anyhin. That ah barely knew Steven. Ah didnae want tae know Steven. Ah dunno whaur this expectation comes fae, that ye’re meant tae be pals wi the guy who starts sleepin wi yer mum then moves intae the hoose ye grew up in as soon as ye move away tae uni.
‘Ah suppose it’s no quite hit me yet,’ ah say. ‘Ah feel numb, if that’s the right word.’
This seems tae please her. Her heid nods long and deep, her chin practically touchin her chest. The pen goes wild, irritatin the paper every which way. Daisy is numb! But I’m not! Because I am such a good fucking counsellor!!!
‘Mm,’ she says. ‘That makes total sense. And how’s your mum dealing with it?’
Again, the truth is jist gonnae upset Siobhan. Ah widnae want tae upset somebdy unless ah really hud tae. Ah’ve no spoken tae ma mum since she left that message. She’s phoned at least once a day but ah patch it every time. Ah’ve sent a couple ae texts. Ah’m no gid at articulatin ma feelins on the phone. Aw that’s gonnae happen is ah’ll accidentally say the wrong hing, ma mum’ll take it the wrong way, and then it becomes a hale ordeal. Ah’m daein us baith a favour.
‘She’s so-so,’ ah say. ‘Ah hink the funeral’s gonnae be hard fur her, obviously, but efter that, it’ll be awright. Everyhin’s awright in the end.’
‘And when’s the funeral?’
‘This efternoon.’
A truth.
‘And you’re going?’
‘Aye.’
A lie.
Siobhan closes ower her notepad in a dramatic fashion. She sighs.
‘Daisy,’ she says, scratchin a nail against the corner ae her mooth. ‘I’m struggling to work out whether you’re telling me the truth here. You didn’t bring up Steven once in our previous sessions. No, sorry, wait, there was that one time where you referred to him as ‘Stepdad Cuntybaws’. Are you really numb? Or are you just saying what you think I want to hear?’
It’s a trap. Ah know it is. The notepad in her lap is closed but the yin in her brain is wide open, ready tae make me oot tae be some horrible, heartless monster. Ye know whit, Siobhan, ye’re no ma mum, and ye’re no Mrs De Luca, ma high school piano teacher, may she rest in peace. Ye’re a random stranger that got assigned tae me efter ma Philosophy tutor thought ah wis showin a troubling pattern of behaviour and suggested ah take some time away fae uni fur a few weeks. Ah don’t care whit you hink.
‘Ah’m feelin the same as ah iways dae,’ ah say. ‘Fae ma point ae view, nuhin’s changed. Ah didnae know Steven. It’s lit… when ye hear on the news that somebdy’s died. Ye go ‘aw, that’s sad’ and then they move on tae the weather and ye don’t hink aboot that person again. His funeral’s the day, aye, but ah’m still no decided if ah’m goin or no. Funny hing is, ah’ve got a Tinder date in a couple ae oors. Ah’d organised it afore Steven died so ah don’t hink it’s in bad taste.
‘Ah know ma mum’s upset. Ah know she’ll be annoyed that ah’ve no been there fur her but… Steven wis her man. That wis her choice. Ma choice wis no tae huv anyhin tae dae wi him. If ah hud a boyfriend, unlikely as that might seem, and he died, ah widnae expect folk that didnae know him tae be in floods ae tears.
‘So grief disnae come intae it fur me. Ma feelins urr valid, urr they no? Is that no whit ye’re iways tellin me? So ma lack ae feelins shid be valid as well, surely? Ah’ve awready lost a da. He walked oot on us, classic da move, see yeese later. So ah’m no gonnae choose tae lose another. Steven wis jist… a guy that died. And that’s sad, aye, but…’
Ah don’t finish the sentence, cause ah don’t know how tae end it.
Siobhan’s eyebrows urr stuck in a permanently raised state. Her hawn slowly moves tae her notepad tae open it again. She’s gonnae tell me thur’s a lot tae unpack here.
‘Daisy,’ she says. ‘There’s a lot to unpack here. It’s natural to react… angrily to death. And to lash out with, maybe, some not so nice things.’
That didnae take long. Ah knew she didnae like me. Ah knew we wurnae pals. It’s aw fur show. Why the fuck does she hink ah’m a guarded person? Cause ae folk lit her jist kiddin on they care aboot ye. This is why ye shid jist stay in yer shell. People need shells.
But no one needs you.
‘Ah’m jist bein honest,’ ah tell her. ‘Am ah really bein that nasty? Ah could tell ye suhin actually nasty, if ye want.’
The please go on smile.
‘The last time a
h saw Steven, it wis a few days afore he died, in Kelvingrove Park. Ah wis wi ma pal Frances and he tried tae say hiya. Ah ignored him. Jist flat oot walked by him and pretended ah didnae see him. He wis aw ‘Daisy, Daisy, it’s me, Steven,’ and ah absolutely blanked him. Laughed at him, even. And, lit, ah don’t feel bad aboot it.’
We sit in silence. Can a counsellor break up wi ye? If ye talk enough shite, will they jist call it a day at some point? Replace me wi somebdy fae the waitin list that’s less ae a dick?
Siobhan taps her pen against her chin. She’s so annoyingly calm aboot everyhin. It widnae surprise me if she’s incapable ae producin sweat.
‘Why didn’t you make a note of that in your diary?’
‘Whit?’ ah say. ‘Who cares? Ah’ve remembered it noo anyway.’
‘You made a note about going for pizza at the Bier Halle, two for one, and you made a note about not getting your phone upgraded, but you didn’t make a note after the last time you saw Steven. It clearly made an impact. You say you don’t feel bad about it but you yourself just described it as nasty. I realise you have this tough exterior, big bad Daisy who doesn’t have feelings, and you act like you don’t care what anyone else thinks but… it’s okay to care what other people think, Daisy. Newsflash, everyone does. It’s part of being human. It’s okay to regret that you never got to know your stepdad.’
Ah shake ma heid and try tae stop masel sayin anyhin daft.
‘Fuck off, man.’
Ah need oot ae here. Ah grab ma bag and jaiket and head fur the door.
‘Siobhan,’ ah say. ‘This hus been great, really insightful and that, but ah’ll need tae leave early jist this once.’
She stays in her seat.
‘You always leave early.’
‘Well then, it’s no a fuckin shock, is it?’
The reed diffuser by the door makes the room reek ae lavender. Every time wi that fuckin smell. Ah tip it ower as ah go past. The sticks rattle on tae the table and some fall tae the flair.
