by Ross Sayers
The wife behind the desk smiles. The glare fae her computer screen reflects on her glasses and makes it seem lit her eyes are shootin white beams.
‘Evenin,’ she says. ‘Cauld oot there, isn’t it? And ye’ve nae jaiket, ye’ll be freezin.’
‘Aye it’s a bit chilly,’ ah say, and go up tae the desk. ‘Yer sign says ye’ve got vacancies?’
She disappears below the desk and pops back up wi a huge ledger book. She flips it open and the thick pages land wi a clunk.
‘That we do,’ she says, chewin the end ae a pencil. ‘There’s always vacancies at Clancy’s. Ah’m Minnie Clancy.’
Ah tell her ma new name. She gies the computer next tae her a snidey look.
‘Ma husband insisted on buyin the computer but ah’m no fur learnin aw that at ma age, ah’ll stick wi the auld pencil and paper, thank ye very much.’
The paper makes a crisp crunch as Minnie turns the page ower.
‘How many nights will ye be stayin?’ she asks.
‘Jist tonight, ah hope.’
‘Ah see. Debit or credit caird?’
‘Eh, cash, if that’s okay.’
Ah bring oot ma big wad ae cash and slap doon three twenties. Minnie inspects the money ower her glasses, then looks behind me at the empty space near the door.
‘Nae luggage?’
Ah smile.
‘Ah’m travellin light.’
She pauses, placin the pencil doon on the book, then beckons me tae lean in. Her perfume seeps oot tae meet ma nostrils. Fruity and aromatic.
‘Jist so ye know,’ she whispers, usin one fing’r tae slide the money back towards me. ‘Illegal activities urr not permitted within the hotel.’
‘Oh-kay. Ah understand,’ ah say, noddin and pushin the money back towards her. ‘Ye know whit, let’s make it two nights, jist in case.’
Ah pit doon mair notes and she hums and haws but eventually decides on a room fur me. She hawns me the key fur room 22 and ah make a sharpish exit up the stairs.
The key slides intae the lock neatly. The room hus a lot ae… character. That’s whit ye say when it looks lit yer granny’s back room, isn’t it?
Ah strip aff and dump ma claithes in a pile. A step intae the en suite shower and realise, as the water goes greenish at my feet, that ah’ve been wearin the remnants ae the Venom on ma skin aw day.
Ah sling on the bathrobe that’s hung on the back ae the door and it’s lit wearin a big, fluffy cloud. It’s embroidered wi Clancy Bed & Breakfast 1896. Then ah dry ma hair, nearly fallin asleep as ah stare at Rose’s face in the mirror.
‘Och Rose,’ ah say tae the reflection. ‘Whit um ah gonnae dae wi ye, hen? Ye’re braw don’t get me wrong, but ye’ll need tae go. Mibbe we’ll need tae pay a wee visit tae Steven, eh? Stop him fae kickin the bucket jist yet. Get Daisy back? Sound lit a plan?’
Ah jist hope Jill wis tellin me the truth aboot savin his life, otherwise it’ll be a total waste ae ma time.
Ma hair is as dry as ah can be bothered makin it. Ah perch on the edge ae the bed. It’s no much ae a view ootside, jist the random bits and bobs that urr on North Frederick Street. Ah’m sure ah could see George Square if ah really tried.
Bein in a hotel room iways makes me feel lit a tourist. It disnae matter whaur ye urr, ye could be in a city ye’ve lived in yer hale life, but when ye look at it through the windae ae a hotel, it’s lit it’s brand new again.
Wan ae ma earliest memories is bein in a hotel room on Arran wi ma mum and dad. She wanted tae go oot a walk but Liverpool wur playin Newcastle and ma dad said he needed tae watch it. Ma mum went oot hersel cause ah chose ma dad’s side. We watched the game and Mum went her walk. That wis the only hing we really hud, me and ma dad. Growin up, it wis iways ‘Daisy, why d’ye support Liverpool and no a Scottish team?’ It wis the only hing he left me wi.
Ah lie back in bed. Steven wis as much a mystery tae me as ma real dad. Ah don’t even know whit he did fur a livin. Ah don’t know exactly when or how he died.
It wid be fair tae say ah’ve got absolutely nae clue how ah’m gonnae save him.
Part One: Adult, Single
Part Three
In Motion
23
Ah’m woken up by the bin lorry. Glasgow’s a loud city, that’s ma first complaint as a tourist.
Ah stumble ma way tae the windae, nudge ma heid through the curtains and look doon ontae the lane next tae the hotel. A guy in a high-vis yellow vest hops aff the back ae the lorry and kicks two bins on tae their wheels in that way only binmen can. If ah tried that, thur’d be rubbish everywhaur.
The driver jumps oot the lorry and uses this spare time tae light up a fag.
Well whit urr the chances…
Huv ye ever seen a deid man drive a bin lorry afore? Cause Steven is stood doon there on the street alive and well and smokin a fag, even though ma mum says he’s supposedly aff them. Ah used tae steal a ciggie or two fae him when he first started seein ma mum, no that he ever cottoned on.
Ah don’t waste any time wi thinking, which usually jist slows me doon. Ah grab ma room key and heid oot intae the corridor.
Hud Steven ever telt me he wis a binman? A fleetin memory comes tae me. Me, mum and Steven sittin roond the dinner table. Me barely payin attention, no lookin at ma phone cause Mum asked me tae go through the hale meal withoot checkin it. Steven sayin he wis in waste management.
Two guys in grey suits block ma way as ah try and rush doon the stairs. They look back at me. Thur identical short back and sides haircuts make them look lit goons fae a Bond fulm, the kind whose hale dialogue consists ae grunts and then they get killed after six minutes.
‘You take a wrong turn on the way to the shower, love?’ wan ae the blokes says, tae which the other yin laughs. Then he lowers his voice. ‘Get up there and make sure it’s hot enough for me.’
Ah grab a handful ae his suit and turn him tae face me. He hus that look that men get. Ye know the wan. That face men get that tell ye they’ve went through life sayin whitever they fancy tae women and urr shocked that wan ae these women might huv the audacity tae say suhin back.
‘Whit wis that, chuckles?’ ah say tae him.
His jowls quiver slightly as he looks tae his pal tae save him fae this unbelievable turn ae events.
‘I j-just said that you might be lost?’ he manages.
‘Naw, naw, kind sir,’ ah say. ‘Ah’m startin tae hink ah’m right whaur ah need tae be. You might’ve taken a wrong turn somewhaur though, since ye seem tae be stuck in the fuckin 50s. Wis is worth it then? Tae make a young lassie feel uncomfortable and unsafe? So ye could pretend tae yer pal here ye’re a shagger?’
He rolls his eyes while the other guy looks at the flair.
‘Aye, that’s whit ah thought. Wisen up, ae? Try harder.’
Ah squeeze through the middle ae them and run through the entrance hall. As ah dae, Minnie gies me a funny look fae behind the desk.
‘Ah jist,’ ah tell her, ‘thought ah saw Santa ootside so…’
(Tip: don’t run ootside on a December mornin in Glasgow wearin jist a Clancy’s B&B bathrobe, nae matter how cosy it might seem. Baltic disnae even cover it.)
The catcalls and funny stares start immediately fae the group ae folk huddled under the bus stop shelter. Ah scurry roond the side ae the B&B. The lorry is parked up in the lane and the two men urr returnin the bins. Wee jaggy staines huv embedded themsels in the bottoms ae ma feet.
Steven takes a puff, then looks doon the lane at me. When he makes eye contact wi me, it’s lit thur’s a shared connection. A shared understandin that this is… weird. This moment isnae possible. A shared look between a deid guy and a lassie that disnae really exist.
Steven’s brow furrows and ah panic, hinkin somehow he’s seen through whit ah look like tae the real me.
‘You must be…’ he starts, rush
in towards me, ‘flippin freezin.’
Aff comes his puffy jaiket. Afore ah can say anyhin, he’s got it wrapped aroond ma shooders. He’s inches fae me as he does up the zip, his cigarette breath the only hing between us.
‘Ye’ll catch yer death oot here,’ he says. ‘Whaur’s yer claithes? Whit urr ye oot here fur?’
Ma teeth urr beginnin tae chatter right enough. Rose hus fillins in her teeth, ma tongue’s findin thur strange, new ridges.
Steven’s co-worker heads back tae the lorry.
‘Thur in ma room,’ ah say. ‘And ah’m oot here cause…’
Come on, Daisy, ye need tae hink ae suhin quick. Ye need tae hink ae suhin that means he cannae jist walk away fae ye here. Ye need tae get his attention. Think. How dae ye get a man’s attention that’s no… that.
Ah grab ma side, ma hawn clutchin the robe. This is a terrible idea but it’s the only wan ah’ve got.
‘Ye hit me wi yer lorry.’
He steps back and pits his hawns up, as if provin his innocence.
‘Naw ah didnae,’ he says. ‘Naw… naw ah didnae. Ah wid’ve noticed.’
‘That lorry there,’ ah say, pointin tae the big noise machine next tae us. ‘Clipped me as it backed intae the lane.’
He looks me up and doon.
‘Well, ye don’t seem hurt.’
Ah grab ma side harder.
‘Oh it’s bad, it’s really bad. Might be internal bleedin.’
‘Jeezo, ah’ll phone an ambulance then?’
‘Ohhh well mibbe no… mibbe ah’ll jist need tae ice it.’
‘Ice it? Ice internal bleedin?’
‘You’re no a doctor, you don’t know.’
He pits his hawns on his hips.
‘Ah might no be a doctor but ah’ve seen enough Grey’s Anatomy tae ken ice disnae heal internal bleedin. Noo, urr ye lyin aboot me hittin ye or whit?’
24
It’s silly but ah’m committed noo. Ah jist wish ah’d hud mair time tae plan oot suhin mair convincin.
‘It might jist be bruised ribs,’ ah say. ‘But ye definitely hit me. And… ah could sue. Aye, aye, that’s gid. Ah could sue ye fur this.’
Steven gies me a nervous laugh and reaches intae the pocket ae his fleece, producin a packet ae fags and a lighter.
‘Is that right?’
‘Aye,’ ah say. ‘That’s right. Noo, gimme a fag, please.’
He looks doon the lane fur his workmate but he’s still inside the truck.
‘Ah’ll gie ye a fag… if ye stop wi this silly business.’
‘Geez wan and ah’ll hink aboot it.’
He offers the pack. Ah slide yin oot and he lights it for me. Noo we’re jist two folk standin in an alley and ah’m no sure whit tae dae next. How dae ah save his life fae this position?
‘It’s a terrible habit,’ he says, finally.
‘And yet ye’re still daein it.’
‘Ma partner really hates me smokin so ah only get tae sneak a few when ah’m at work.’
Ah nod. It’s a reflex, cause ah know who is partner is, of course. He lights another fur himsel and we stand in the lane beside the B&B, smokin lit two buddies, as ma knees knock thigether.
So, ye’ve got his attention noo, Daisy. Aw ye need tae dae noo is… stop him fae dyin next week. He’s due tae huv a heart attack next Saturday night. In which case, smokin wi him is probably the last hing ah shid be daein.
‘Ah’m actually jist coverin fur somebdy the day,’ he tells me. ‘Ah shidnae even be here. The guy, Richie, didnae show up this mornin. This isnae usually ma route. See, this is why ye don’t dae favours fur folk.’
Actually, ah might huv him right whaur ah want him. He wants tae dismiss me as another Glasgow nutter but he cannae, jist in case ah’m bein serious. And if this isnae usually his route, ah’m guessin he’s no aw that confident aboot his reversin skills, especially up a tight lane he’s no used tae.
‘Urr ye stayin here then?’ he says, readin the sign. ‘Clancy’s?’
‘Aye,’ ah say. ‘Jist… on ma holidays.
‘You on the wind up? Ye sound like ye’re local.’
‘Ah jist huv one ae they accents.’
Somehow he nods and accepts this explanation.
‘So, bruised ribs, eh?’
‘That’s whit it feels lit, aye.’
‘Ah’m fairly sure ah wid’ve noticed if ah’d hit ye.’
‘It’s a big vehicle ye’ve got there. Ah must’ve been in yer blind spot.’
‘Urr ye callin me a bad driver?’
‘No necessarily. Ah know loads ae great drivers that hit lassies wi thur car.’
Steven laughs through his nose. The other guy in the lorry shouts fur Steven tae get a move on.
‘Two minutes,’ he shouts back, then turns tae me. ‘Ye know, ah’ve got a stepdaughter jist lit you. Ye even look a bit like her.’
Here we go. The creepiest start tae a conversation ah can even imagine. In thirty seconds he’ll be offerin tae show me how the truck works.
‘Aye?’ ah say. ‘She must be suhin else.’
‘Eh, aye, ah’d say she is.’
Ah feel sick. Ah wonder how many ae his drinkin buddies he’s telt aboot me, aboot how he used tae catch glimpses ae me gettin oot the shower. Mibbe ah’ll let the heart attack dae its work.
‘But,’ he goes on. ‘She gets it fae her mother.’
Ah nod and exhale smoke intae the wind so it blows in his face.
‘Bet yer stepdaughter’s a right naughty lassie?’ ah say.
He frowns and readjusts his woolly hat, makin sure the logo is right at the front. Two wee purple guys wi hockey sticks and the words Braehead Clan.
‘Naw,’ he says. ’Naw, ah widnae say that exactly. She’s jist a wee bit lost at the minute, ah hink. No quite found hersel yet. She’s a gid lassie, she jist disnae trust me, is aw. Her real da’s no on the scene anymair, so it’s understandable.’
Ah feel ready tae slap him across the face. How dare he discuss me wi any randomer. Let alone his shitey psycho evaluation ae me. Ah want tae tell him tae keep his nose oot but aw ah dae is rub ma ribs.
‘But aye, ye pit me in mind ae her cause she used tae pinch a fag or two fae me afore she moved oot the hoose. She thought ah didnae notice but ah did, see. Didnae mind though. Better that she takes wan or two insteid ae buyin a full pack and endin up wi a cough like mine.’
It’s mad how he’s convinced himsel he’s the gid guy when he’s lettin a young lassie smoke and no tryin tae stop her. Ah might’ve been a long-distance runner if no fur him.
Efter a long, last drag on the cigarette, ah flick it at the wall. Ah can hardly stamp it oot in ma bare feet. Ma toes huv near enough frozen thigether.
‘Ah need tae get back upstairs,’ ah say, ‘afore ah freeze ma nips aff. But ah wis hinkin, ye know, wi ma injuries and that, mibbe we shid exchange details.’
When he looks up the lane this time, it’s mair lit he’s makin sure naebdy’s watchin us.
‘Whit kind ae details?’
‘Well, geez yer number in case ah need an emergency contact at the hospital.’
‘Ye’re goin tae the hospital?’
‘Ah might.’
‘Ye’d be better phonin yer parents.’
‘Ah’ve nae family.’
‘Nae family?’
‘None. Look at me, ah’m chattin tae the guy that nearly killed me. Does that no suggest that ah’m… well, that ah’m…’
You’re lonely oh my god you can’t even say it even when no one knows it’s you, even when you’re lying… unless you’re… actually lonely?
A freezin breeze sweeps intae the alley and threatens tae blow up ma gown lit a budget Marilyn Monroe. Ah hold doon ma fluffy flaps. The other binman comes back intae the lane.
�
�Come on, Steven,’ he shouts, in a thick London accent. ‘She’s not interested in you, mate.’
Ah pit ma hawn oot.
‘Steven, is it?’ ah say. ‘Ah’m Rose.’
He peels aff a glove and shakes, his callouses rubbin against ma palm.
‘Nice tae meet ye, Rose. Here, ah’ll gie ye ma number, then, jist fur an emergency, mind you.’
He produces a pad fae his pocket and writes his mobile number doon, rippin aff the page and handin it tae me. Ah stuff it intae wan ae the gown’s pockets.
‘Only phone me if ye’re really needin help, mind. And reception’s no the best oot in EK so if ah don’t answer, that’s why.’
He gies me an awkward wave and runs back tae the lorry. The kind ae run ye dae when ye’re crossin the road and a car comes up a bit faster than ye thought it wid.
Ah sprint through reception withoot lookin tae see if Minnie’s judgin ma attire. Back in the room, ah jump under the covers lit ah did when ah wis five and ma mum telt me she wis turnin aff the big light in two seconds. She niver made any threats aboot monsters comin oot tae get me in the dark, but thur wis an unspoken agreement that that’s whit ah wis runnin fae.
Ah take oot the bit ae paper wi Steven’s number on it. Ah’ll text him the night, tell him suhin’s wrong. Ah’m… coughin up blood or suhin, and… the ambulance says it’s no gonnae arrive fur ages. Ah’ll make him drive ower here tae get me. And then ah can message ma mum, tell her Steven’s oot, visitin a young gurl at a hotel. Ah’ll no answer the door tae him, he’ll drive back hame, and mum’ll be there waitin tae break up wi him. He’ll huv tae move oot, go and stay wi a friend or suhin.
Aye, this’ll cause a stooshie and a hauf. It’ll change the timeline. It’ll save his life. And, maist importantly, it’ll let me go back hame.
25
Ah spend the rest ae the day spendin ma winnins. Ah pop tae Topshop and back so ah’ve got a few mair options than jist the wan jumper and pair ae leggins. Ah buy the biggest jaiket they huv. It’s the only hing a regular gal lit me hus tae battle against the Scottish winter.
