by Ross Sayers
Steven turns in his seat and looks up the back ae the stands.
‘Did he jist say—’
Afore he can finish, the highland coo mascot, Clangus, appears and bounds up the stairs. Clangus beckons Steven tae get oot his seat. Steven shakes his heid while Davie kills himsel laughin.
‘This wis you, eh?’ Steven says. ‘Ye’ve telt them it’s ma birthday?’
Davie can barely speak fur laughin.
‘Ah telt them nuhin!’
Steven turns tae Clangus.
‘Listen, pal. It’s no ma birthday, it’s no fur a couple ae weeks yet.’
Clangus continues tae dance, then leans intae us.
‘Come on, mate,’ comes the woman’s voice fae inside the costume. ‘Jist huv a wee dance so ah can get up the road. Ah’m sweatin buckets in here.’
Everyone nearby claps in unison and Steven gets tae his feet. He pits his hawns in the air in a show ae surrender. He squeezes past me and awkwardly dances wi Clangus. The crowd lap it up and it ends efter thirty bizarre seconds wi a hug between Clangus and Steven.
‘Well,’ Steven says, retakin his seat. ‘There’s suhin tae tell Annie when ah get hame.’
‘Whit aboot this Daisy lassie?’ ah ask. ‘Urr ye no gonnae tell her?’
‘Ha! Nah, she’s moved oot noo. Nice flat in the west end that muggins here is payin fur, no that ah’ve ever hud a thanks aff her fur it. Ah didnae used tae see her much afore she moved oot right enough. Honestly, ah’m fairly sure she’s got ma number blocked.’
The clock’s tickin doon and the game’s nearly done. Ah thought ma mum paid the rent on ma flat. That’s whit she telt me. Steven’s been payin fur me aw this time? How’d he even afford it? Ah cannae imagine his salary is up tae much. Fuck’s sake.
You’re a burden to everyone even when you don’t realise it.
‘See this Daisy,’ ah ask. ‘Huv ye telt her ye’re a binman? Or huv ye lied tae her aboot it?’
He looks at me. He looks a little tired, or mibbe scared. He disnae answer. The final buzzer goes and everyone heads tae the exit. Ah go wi the flow and find masel walkin wi Steven and Davie aw the way, past the shutters ae closed shops and neat rows ae assorted kids’ buggies.
Ootside, it’s crunchy underfit and the crowd’s breath becomes a permanent white spirit above oor heids.
‘It’s no that ah lied tae her aboot ma work,’ Steven says finally. ‘It’s that ah know she’ll be embarrassed ae me. If her pals find oot… ah know she’ll be mortified. Ah’m proud ae whit ah dae, though. It’s a gid honest livin, no like some folk ah ken. But it’s hard gettin Daisy tae trust me at the best ae times. Ah’ll tell her someday, if she ever gies me the chance.’
‘D’ye no hink it’s better tae try sooner rather than later?’
‘She’s young, jist turnt nineteen. Ah mind whit ah wis like at that age. When she’s aulder, she’ll be a bit mair… open tae gettin tae know me. Ah hope.’
Davie’s met somebdy else he knows. They hug and share disappointed shakes ae the heid discussin the game. Ah dunno whit tae say tae Steven. Ah dunno whit tae say as Rose and ah really don’t know whit tae say as Daisy.
‘Ye awright tae get hame?’ Steven asks.
‘Aye, thanks. Ma friend shid be here somewhaur.’
While ah’m scannin the car park lookin fur Jill, him and Davie leave in a different direction. Ah try tae catch up wi them but ah slip on a patch ae ice and fall on ma erse. Ah jist cannae keep on ma feet these days.
As ah get back up, ah realise whit a shite spy ah wid be. Ah wis supposed tae get mair info fae him. Lit findin oot mair aboot next Saturday night. Noo he’s gone and the last few oors huv been a total waste ae time.
Soon thur’s only a few cars left and none ae them urr Jill’s. Even ma big jaiket’s no helpin against this cauld.
A security guy closes up the exit whaur we aw left fae. Ah fear he’s gonnae come ower and ask me whit ah’m up tae, so ah start walkin wi purpose, as if ah’ve got somewhaur tae go. Right through the car park, ower the road, and intae the bigger car park at the other side ae the centre.
Again, nae sign ae Jill. Thur’s barely any streetlights ower here and ah struggle tae tell the cars apart. Ah make ma way tae the far end, whaur a couple ae pubs urr still open.
Ah take a seat on a bench ootside and hope Jill will hink tae come here when she disnae find me anywhaur else. Ah bash ma feet against each other tae keep the heat in them. Ah pit ma hawns on top ae ma hat. Ye lose heat fae yer heid, don’t ye?
‘Rose?’ a voice says.
Ah look behind me. At the door ae the pub is Steven. He hauds a frosty pint in his hawn.
‘Ah thought that wis you,’ he says. ‘Whit urr ye daein oot in the cauld? Come and wait inside wi us if ye want.’
Drinkin wi Steven wis niver close tae bein on ma bucket list. And ah’m meant tae be keepin him away fae booze and fags as well. Ah’m daein a terrible job, ah really um.
‘That’s nice ae ye,’ ah say. ‘But ma friend’ll be here any second. Ye can keep me company though?’
He nods, then comes oot and stands by ma side.
‘Here,’ he says, and hawns me a napkin. ‘That’s ma number. Ma real number. Jist in case yer pal disnae show and ye need a lift.’
The napkin flaps in the breeze.
‘Why?’ ah ask.
‘Why whit?’
‘Why urr ye bein so nice tae me? Ye don’t know me. And ah threatened tae sue ye.’
He shrugs.
‘Forgive and forget and aw that. We aw get doon on oor luck sometimes. Ah hope ah don’t offend ye, Rose, but it seems like… ye’re doon on yer luck at the minute. And… mibbe ah feel bad that ah noticed ye fallin doon there, but Davie convinced me jist tae walk away.’
Ah take the napkin, fold it up and pit it in ma pocket.
‘Thanks,’ ah say. ‘Ma pal will be here any minute ah’m sure.’
‘Awright. Well, me and Davie come here fur a wee dram efter every game so we might see ye again some time. Next Saturday mibbe.’
He says night and walks back towards the pub. As he gets tae the entrance, ah shout efter him.
‘Ye shid stop drinkin, ye know. It’ll kill ye.’
‘Ye sound like ma Annie,’ he calls back.
‘Smart woman.’
Steven disnae hear me, he jist smiles and goes inside. A pair ae headlights shine and light up the area in front ae the pub. A toot toot tooooot lets me know it’s Jill.
‘Whaur the fuck huv you been?’ ah ask, gettin in and pressin ma hawns tae the heater. ‘Ye could crack ma nipples aff and use them as a snowman’s eyes.’
‘Ah’ve been daein laps fur a while,’ Jill replies, lookin red in the face. ‘The polis asked me tae move on. Said somebdy hud reported a lassie sittin in a balaclava that fit ma description. Anyway, did ye find oot anyhin helpful?’
The car rolls ower a speedbump gently and rocks ma heid against the headrest.
‘Aye,’ ah say, pointin at the pub through the windae. ‘That’s the pub whaur Steven’s gonnae die.’
34
When ah wake the next mornin, ma face stuck tae the leather ae the couch, Jill’s awready gone. It’s Saturday, December 9th. Steven’s gonnae die on Saturday, December 16th. Wan week tae go. Wan week mair ae bein in this body. Wan week til everyhin goes back tae normal. Ah hope.
Normal? Not sure about that. Do you really want to go back? Now you know what Frances and Sam really think of you. But you always knew that, didn’t you?
Jill seemed happy enough wi ma recon mission last night. Ah got the vital bit ae info: that Steven’s gonnae be at that pub, The Harp & Hound Tavern, next tae the arena on Saturday night. Ah checked the Clan fixtures when we got back tae the flat. December 16th, home game against the Guildford Flames.
‘Bet ye that’s a death match,’ ah said
.
Jill didnae laugh.
So it seems pretty straightforward noo. Steven’s gonnae get himsel in a fight at the pub efter the game. Or get involved tryin tae break yin up.
But ah don’t see whaur the fight’s gonnae come fae. Even if the team get beat ah don’t see him or the other fans bein aw that angry aboot it. They got beat last night and naebdy even shouted fur the manager tae get sacked. It’s almost as if it’s jist a game tae them.
We spent a bit ae time last night scribblin doon some ideas fur the next seven days. Jill came up wi:
meet up with Steven again
convince him to give up booze and eat more healthily
help lower his blood pressure
reduce risk of heart attack
prevent fight after the Clan game
Ah came up wi:
Burn down the Braehead Arena
Clan’s season would be over
No chance of heart attack at the pub
I’ve always wanted to set a building on fire
Burn down the Clan’s team bus
If they don’t have team bus, burn down each player’s car
Kidnap the mascot, Clangus
It wis a close run hing but we’re goin wi her ideas. If ah’m bein honest, ah don’t hink kidnappin the mascot wid actually dae that much, that wis jist a joke answer, tae keep oor spirits up. Ye see it in American fulms sometimes. Jill didnae find that funny either.
At lunchtime, she returns wi Paesano pizzas fur us. Number 4, spicy salami, fur Jill, number 5, ham and mushroom, fur me. We sit and watch Soccer Saturday, ma choice. Ah roll ma pizza intae one big makeshift calzone.
‘Any further thoughts?’ Jill asks, then quickly adds. ‘That urnae aboot burnin doon buildins.’
‘Aye,’ ah say. ‘Somebdy really needs tae tell Charlie Nicholas tae get rid ae that ear stud.’
She disnae know who he is. Ah try and point him oot but the camera disnae pan back roond tae him.
‘Urr ye gonnae see Steven afore next Saturday, aye?’ she asks.
‘Ah don’t hink he’ll want tae meet me again. And it’s hardly lit ah can change his diet in wan day. How dae ah even bring that up? “Hullo, Steven, oh by the way huv ye tried this hing called lettuce? It’s dynamite and ah hink ye shid get involved”.’
‘Ye still need tae try. This isnae a joke, ye know? This is yer life wur talkin aboot.’
Ah rub ma temples and try and mind ah shid be thankful she’s lettin me stay wi her.
‘Listen, Jill, whitever’s gonnae happen is gonnae happen next Saturday. Ah shid save ma strength fur then.’
We eat oor pizzas and watch as the scores trickle slowly up the screen. Ah don’t mind any ae these results. Shame. Ah’ll need tae remember tae pay attention tae mair fitbaw results in case ah travel back in time again and need some quick cash.
‘Urr ye scared?’ Jill asks me.
I know you are.
‘Ha!’ ah say. ‘Scared. Gid yin. Whit um ah meant tae be scared ae?’
‘That ye’ll get stuck in this body… Rose,’ she replies, chewin on a crust. ‘Or mibbe ye’re realisin that ye actually like yer stepda.’
‘Aw, here we go. Ye didnae dae psychology at uni by any chance did ye?’
‘Well, ah got ma honours in Media Studies but ah did psychology in second year.’
‘Aye, well, it shows.’
She grabs the remote and starts flickin through the channels. Soon we’re on an auld episode ae Mock the Week. They’re makin fun ae some story ah don’t mind even happenin.
‘In the car comin back last night,’ Jill says. ‘Ye couldnae stop talkin aboot him.’
‘Aboot who?’
‘Steven.’
‘Ah’d jist spent two oors sat next tae him. Whit else um ah gonnae talk aboot? The weather? Ah’ve awready lived through this weather two weeks ago. Spoiler, it’s gonnae continue tae be cauld.’
She pits her feet up on her chair and smiles.
‘It wis the way ye talked aboot him. Lit a wee lassie talkin aboot how great and funny her da is. Ye wur this close tae tellin me that your da could beat up ma da.’
It takes a lot tae stop me fae eatin a Paesano pizza. Ah pit doon the remainder ah huv left back in the box. Ah point a greasy fing’r at Jill.
‘Ma da wis great,’ ah say. ‘And ma da wis funny. Right up until the day he decided he’d hud enough and walked oot on us. The day whaur he decided that some wife he’d known two months wis mair important than ma mum and me. It disnae matter whit they say, let me tell ye, Jill. It’s thur actions that mean the most. Thur aw jist waitin on the first opportunity tae jump ship and, guess whit, Steven’s nae different. Years he wis wi ma mum and he niver proposed, even though ah know fur a fact she wis askin him tae. He wanted a wee emergency exit so he could escape whenever he pleased.
‘The only reason ah’m gonnae stop him dyin is cause he’s payin fur the rent on ma flat and thur’s nae way ah’m movin back in wi ma mum. Ah’m no giein up livin in the west end tae go back tae East Kilbride. So don’t fuckin speak aboot hings ye don’t know aboot.’
Ah pick ma pizza back up. Jill sits quietly. She cuts up her pizza. She lifts the remote and pits Soccer Saturday back on.
‘If ah hud ma ain room,’ ah say. ‘Ah’d probably storm aff tae it right noo. But, here we urr. Cheers fur the pizza, by the way.’
We stay lit that until the daylight fades oot the sky and darkness sweeps ower the west end. It only takes aboot forty-five minutes til ah can see ma reflection in the windae lit it’s a mirror. It’s still no me lookin back.
Ah hate thinkin aboot ma real da. Ah hate when suhin tiny reminds me ae him, and ah especially hate it when other folk make me think aboot him. It’s lit an underwater level in a game, lit the yin in Crash Bandicoot, whaur ye’re swimmin and tryin tae avoid the bombs, and the bomb goes aff even when ye’re sure ye didnae touch it. Cause ye really didnae touch it and the game’s jist shite. It wisnae your fault. Ye did everyhin right but ye still huv tae go back tae the start ae the level and hope ye can get through it again withoot settin aff the bomb.
When he left, Mum reverted back tae her maiden name, Douglas, but cause ah wis fifteen ah couldnae dae it withoot his permission. He’s on ma birth certificate and that means he hus parental responsibility. Whit a laugh. Thur wis nae chance ah wis askin him fur a favour, so ah rode oot they last 6 months under his surname. When ah turnt 16, ah binned ma passport and telt the passport office ah’d lost it, wrote ma ain change ae name deed and left that name behind forever.
Every noo and then, ah get a letter under that surname. His name. Boom. Clipped the edge ae a bomb and it’s back tae the start ae the level.
‘If anyone’s scared,’ ah say, finally breakin the silence. ‘It’s you.’
Jill shrugs and keeps her eyes on the telly. We’ve switched ower tae a celebrity version ae Pointless.
‘Goan enlighten me then,’ she says.
‘Well, if Steven dies next Saturday, ye’re stuck wi me.’
‘Let’s no hink aboot that.’
‘But ah bet ye’ve got a plan jist in case? Make me a new identity and that? Ah’ll tell ye wan hing, ye better consult me afore ye pit ma name on anyhin. Ah’m no sure ah want tae stick wi Rose.’
Again, she shrugs and her eyes don’t meet mine.
‘Let’s jist see whit happens.’
35
Ah spend the next few oors goin in and oot ae sleep on the couch. Ah’ve iways hud this theory that Saturday night telly is scientifically designed tae pit ye tae sleep. Honestly, if ye’re plannin a big night on the toon and ye make the mistake ae sittin doon fur ten minutes ae Strictly, that’s you in fur the night.
Jill shakes me awake.
‘Ah’m goin tae the ABC wi ma pal Kylie,’ she says tae me. ‘Will ye be awright on y
er ain?’
Ah close ma eyes and murmur an approvin sound. ‘Um ah no invited?’
‘Oh, em, well, ah dunno—’
‘Ah’m only jokin. Away oot and enjoy yersel. The mair ah sleep the quicker this week goes.’
Ah open ma eyes and watch her goin oot the door. She’s wearin black boots, black hoodie, black cap. Ah promise masel ah’ll niver go up toon wearin that kind ae get up when ah reach her age.
Course, thur’s iways been a part ae me that disnae see masel growin auld. The idea ae reachin fifty, sixty, seventy year auld? It seems impossible. Then again, a few years back, reachin nineteen seemed a lifetime away. But noo ah’ve got experience wi lookin in the mirror and no recognisin the person starin back. Mibbe ah’m ready tae grow up.
Ah wake aboot midnight, damp wi the kind ae sweatiness that only comes when ye nap at the wrong time, in the wrong place. A fulm’s on the telly. The light fae Vince Vaughan’s coupon glares ontae the carpet.
The sound ae drunks oot on the street, yellin and laughin, reaches ma ears. Ah throw aff the duvet, glad tae be cooled doon a bit, and walk tae the windae. Ah spread the blinds and look oot. A group walks by Coopers, crosses the road and gets in the queue fur Viper.
Mibbe ah shid’ve forced masel intae Jill’s night oot. God knows, ah could be daein wi a laugh and a drink and a dance. And it’s no lit ah need anyone else tae huv a gid time. Ah iways make pals on a night oot anyway.
Ah readjust ma eyes and see Rose’s reflection in the windae. She smiles. Whit could be better than a night oot in a body that disnae really exist? Alcohol kills brain cells, so they say, but this brain’s no gonnae be aroond fur much longer. And ah did buy a dress when ah went tae Topshop, jist in case.
But first ah’m gonnae need some ID, in case the bouncers hink Rose looks under twenty-five. They better hink ah look under twenty-five.
Ah can barely see the Cathouse entrance door in the distance by the time ah get there and join the back ae the queue. Some folk gie up and go across tae KFC tae end thur night there insteid, the aroma ae fried chicken too enticin tae resist. Ah huddle close tae the group ae gurls in front ae me so the bouncer hinks we’re thigether.
