by James Kelman
Although if she had to do it. So it was not ‘indulgent’, not if she had to. If it was Brian. She would never forgive herself and like Mo too, if she told him. And she would tell him, whether she found Brian or not, he would have to know because if he didnt oh God that would be so bad of her. It would be. Because not taking him into her confidence like not trusting him and she did trust him, above all, she trusted him.
It was true! She trusted Mo, she really really did. He was her family, so if it was Brian. If it was Brian it was Brian.
She closed her eyes, rubbed at the side of her face. Why did people not go home? And Helen too, if only
only only, only the lonely,
a card a card a card,
So if he was ill. Perhaps he was. He had been a good big brother to her. If it was him. If it was. Only she had to know. She at least would say hullo. So if he was homeless. Poor Brian. None of it mattered, bloody oglers and nonsense.
What time was it?
Hi … came the whisper. The relief Inspector had moved in behind Helen’s chair as she dealt. Felix, quite a tough-looking guy. Her knight in shining armour! She knew he liked her. At least he wasnt creepy. And his lips. Some lips she didnt like. He leaned closer: Okay?
Yes. Helen smiled.
The ogler and his mate had gone. When had they gone? If management wanted to stop the ogling they would give the girls different-style dresses, higher necklines to begin with. Roll-neck collars. Scarves and overcoats.
Perhaps Felix had a word in his ear; whatever. She hadnt noticed him leave. Things happen. People come people go. A young man was in his seat. Helen smiled and he smiled back. A hand later she bought two 10s to bust so now everybody was smiling. What a wonderful world. It put people off if you always won.
She paid out the winning bets. ‘Wealthy woman’ reached for hers then gathered in all of her chips. Her man had beckoned! He had, he had finished with the roulette and was signalling her. Dance to your daddy. ‘Wealthy woman’ rose from the table.
Helen smothered a yawn. The relief Inspector had moved to another table. Across the floor she saw Caroline walking. Thank God.
On the next round the marker appeared; she collected the discards to begin the shuffling process. But Rob was there, her relief croupier. He winked. He was only young. She felt like hugging him. She really did. Not because he was nice, although he was, but too young, it was just that she
she was glad. What about? She didnt know, like a break, that was all, she needed a break, like from everything, just everything. She had no illusions. What about?
Anything; anything and nothing.
She smiled and was tired.
Jill had gone on ahead to pacify the grumpy male. Although what difference did it make to Danny the driver? If it was a contract hire. They were waiting on Caroline who was still in front of the mirror, still fixing her hair, having her ‘last sip’ of tea and yapping about her two sons. Nothing changes. Actually it was relaxing. Even the gossipy nosiness, Helen quite liked it. Except she went on and on and people were waiting. Helen glanced at her watch again, checking the time by the clock on the wall.
Caroline noticed: Sorry sorry, she said.
Helen was about to speak, she smiled instead. One ‘sorry’ would have been ‘sorry’, two meant she wasnt really.
That’s me now, said Caroline, making to get up from the chair, but instead she peered at her telephone; was she going to text somebody? and another ‘last sip’ of tea. Why, why did she do that? She knew people were waiting on her but still she did it.
Why have a last cup of tea at all? Although Helen could have done with one herself, except there was no time. Plenty time but no time. Was that life? That was life. Hers anyway. Caroline could but Helen couldnt, or wouldnt. Workmates are friends too. If a friend doesnt want you doing something then you shouldnt do it, not if they dont want you to, if it is a friend. What else is a friend? You watch out for friends, you make allowances.
The door had opened and Jill appeared, and Jill was a friend. She didnt have to speak.
Caroline poked her tongue out at her, making fun of the situation. Jill smiled slightly and retreated. Caroline said, Denny’s been waiting for ten minyoots – in a vague imitation of Jill’s voice – then added, I think she’s annoyed at me.
Caroline had returned her attention to the mirror but now she had the telephone in her hand again. Comical and sad. Helen didnt feel anything, annoyed or what, nothing. She lifted her bag from the table, buttoning her coat.
Outside she walked to the cab. She gave Jill a wave. Danny was standing chatting to the driver of another cab. He saw Helen but didnt acknowledge her. Too cool. That was a thing with guys like him, how they were so cool, they were just like so cool.
The other driver was Nicky. He was okay. There were times his gaze lingered. Not only was he fifty years of age he had a bald head and a stupid moustache; father of four, still wanting to look. Look but dont touch. It would have been funny if it wasnt so
what?
God, what did it matter? Cheery … Sometimes anyway, that sort of male stupidity, it cheered her up. It was like the real world, coming after the casino, that coldness, there was a coldness. She wasnt always so sensitive to it but tonight she had been. She didnt blame people, it was just something, an overall – some feeling she had, she couldnt describe it, you cant always, Helen couldnt. Sophie once complained about her skin being too tight. Oh Mum, and stroking her arms when she spoke, she said her body was bursting, the skin was too tight for it and it needed more, more skin. What did that mean? It was a while ago she said it. But what did it mean? These things children say, they mean something and you cant work it out. A pure physical thing. Uncomfortable in your skin.
Then stories. Azizah read to Sophie the last thing at night, and some went on and on forever the way Sophie spoke about them, and they were like scary too; some were; people getting their heads chopped up into little pieces, chased into deep valleys by elephants and boa-constrictors; they were more like boys’ stories, but Sophie liked them. Children were an alien species. Of course the stories were exciting but they had to get to sleep. So if Azizah started the story too late. No wonder she was tired in the morning. It explained things too about her concentration, how she got so involved in things, and didnt hear you talking; she just seemed to switch off from listening. People did that. When things got tough how else could you cope?
Oh God.
But it was true. You had to survive. So you had to switch off. You did. It was sophisticated too, behaviour, sophisticated behaviour, for her age, really, quite mature
Helen was shivering, rocking from one foot to the other, so that was skin, that was flesh, flesh and bones and everything. It wasnt that cold either, not temperature-wise, but she really was shivering, she was, like nerves, nervy she was nervy, she was, very very nervy; this shivering, she couldnt stop, so so just oh God, she felt so
folding her arms; no wonder just no wonder.
Oh well, she had to. Had to what? Relax, if she could. She could, she had to, she had to just like be ready. Because things
Across the road a queue formed at the taxi-rank. This time of the morning people were still going and coming, mostly from clubbing, sitting in all-night restaurants or wherever else people went – casinos. Why did they go out in the first place? Some would have had nice houses, gardens and kitchens, and a proper bathroom where you had an actual bath, imagine a bath, like being able to relax and just lie. Imagine being in the bath and a magazine and hot chocolate, that was you and your day-off, last thing at night and Sophie asleep and you were there in the house and able to just – if you ran the bath, relaxing and nothing at all, not even anything to think about
Oh God stupidity.
There were others just hanging around the way people did up west; guys you didnt want to know, looking at you in that way they did.
Three girls passed, wearing hardly a stitch and talking in loud voices; teens. They must have been freezing. Just looking
at them made Helen feel old. How long since she had been one of them? Never.
Not true. But why were they so loud!
Helen enjoyed clubbing. She used to anyway. Not nowadays, not so much, all the bodies, all close up and breathing over you, people out their mind, beer-soaked breath and cigarette smells, and these big guys, just like big guys; forget zombies, although some of them my God that is what they were, zombies, then if they slipped you something.
Nicky’s taxi had gone. Danny was standing by the door of his, hands in pockets and whistling a wee tune, acting like he didnt care. Helen whispered to Jill, I know where she’ll be, she’ll be having a smoke.
Jill didnt respond.
She’ll have come by the back door exit and round the alley.
Yes.
I dont know why she does it; we’re always last.
Jill shrugged. She doesnt want to go home.
Perhaps she’s having an affair. Sorry, said Helen. Only it explains things. The thought just struck me; sorry. Helen got into the back of the cab. She closed her eyes a moment.
Jill followed her into the middle of the back seat. Now Caroline appeared from the rear of the building. Jill whispered, You were right about smoking.
Helen whispered, I didnt mean anything about what I said there, about the other thing, it just came out.
Caroline had the cigarette in one hand, telephone in the other, snatching a last puff before flinging the butt into the gutter, and moving to enter the passenger side. She pulled shut the door, mouthing an apology while affixing the seatbelt.
Danny waited a few moments before entering the driver’s seat. He shut the door firmly, stared into the rear-view mirror a moment longer. Helen saw his eyes. Eventually he said, That us now girls? Our little noses all powdered?
I dont know about yours, muttered Caroline.
Now dont be like that, he said.
Sarcastic bugger.
Yeh dear yeh, but with a home to go to.
Home for the disturbed, she muttered.
Helen smiled. She muttered something else and Helen smiled at that too, whatever it was, the same old stuff, repartee. Jill wasnt listening but gazing out the other side window, in her own wee world, wherever that was, dreams, nice things, perhaps not; she also had her troubles, poor Jill. Poor everybody. Having to bother about everybody. Nobody was there for her but she was to be there for them. True. That was how it felt. Brian was lovely and a good big brother, he had been. But he wasnt there. She would have liked him to be but he wasnt. But she was to do it for him, whatever, she had to do it, and be there, she had to be there. The whole thing, it was just like
escaping
Imagine your own car. She wouldnt have had to wait for anybody. She could drive it to work. Central London was a nightmare, but people did find parking places. It could even be south of the river. Some did that, then took a tube or a bus. Not worrying about other people, they could do what they wanted. That would be good in itself, that would just be like so so good, worth any hassle for the independence. And they could go places. Sophie would love it. Helen would have to drive because Mo didnt.
Except London traffic, but she would get used to that too. The coast wasnt far either. Oh my God seeing the sea, she so missed the sea. All these wee towns and the country roads, exploring them. Mo would learn. He would. She would teach him. Imagine not having a licence. What you need a car for? That was Mo. Nobody needs a car in London. Yes but to get out of London, that was the point. Everybody would if they could, summer especially.
My God the junction already, that was her head.
Danny was not stopping. The lights were green. They were green and not for changing. So no need to stop. If there was none, no need.
She looked out both side windows, nobody, nothing. She had assumed they would stop and they didnt. Oh well.
Goodness but it was a surprise. She hadnt expected this to happen. She did but she didnt.
Unanswerable questions. If the pair had appeared. She would have asked Danny to stop the taxi, and got out. She wouldnt have said why. Or drove on to the next set of traffic lights, got off there and walked back, even from across the river, or else – whatever, just whatever. But she couldnt have done that because what people would have said, if she was getting off there, why would she have been? It was just like – she couldnt have done.
Caroline was speaking to Jill. What about? They would have assumed Helen was listening. Whatever they were talking about. But Helen wasnt listening. She couldnt have anyway because they were leaning forward with their heads turned to each other. Helen would have had to sit forwards on the edge of the seat and just like whatever because the way they were speaking, it was very hard to hear.
But if the two men had been there! Stop stop! Let me out let me out! Imagine they had been and she did. What would they think? The worst. Whatever it was. People always think the worst. But who could have guessed the truth? Nobody. So it was hardly their fault. Helen couldnt have blamed them. She wouldnt anyway, they were decent friends. Workmates. She didnt meet them outside. She didnt meet anybody outside. She didnt want to. She had Sophie and that was enough, her and Mo.
Oh dear! Her life anyway. She glanced out the window, she glanced at her watch. Oh God, what was she thinking? nothing, everything, nonsense, just nonsense
But she knew what she was doing. She did. Whatever time it was. Not long anyway, just whatever, and home before five thirty, easily. They would still be asleep. She had time, time.
Jill and Caroline were looking at her. Helen frowned. Caroline said, You were talking to yourself.
No I wasnt.
Jill said, You were.
Sorry. I hope it was sensible.
No.
Oh well … Helen smiled, and tried to yawn. Are you two not tired? she said. I’m exhausted.
The taxi approached her area. She settled back in the seat. Whatever she was deciding. Although she had decided. She didnt know when, but that she had. So just like how to do the next stage, that was her; how to go forwards because like her mind was haywire, all night long, with useless stuff, nonsensical stupidity and nonsense, such stupidity and so so nonsensical. She thought about things and then she didnt. The last thing ever was what she would do. Yet she knew she would do something. Even changing her clothes to go home; back in the ‘green room’. She knew it then. Her mind had, without her knowing. Decisions decisions. She had decided. Her mind had done it for her.
The taxi turned into her street.
Danny watched her in the rear-view mirror. She unlocked the seatbelt. Caroline opened the door and shifted to allow her out. Not tonight but tomorrow, said Jill.
Helen smiled. Not tonight but tomorrow, whatever that might mean. She waved while heading towards the steps up to the house. Once the taxi was out of sight she returned along the street.
There was little traffic. She walked for nearly ten minutes before the next available taxi. It must have been the changeover period from night to dayshift. Ten minutes was a while. That was the trouble her phone not working, she could have called the local minicab office. The people there were okay.
Anyway, the hackney was good for anonymity. Although the guy was so slow, so very slow. Some drivers do that, why do they do that? Nobody knows. Life has its secrets!
She could have gone to sleep there in the back seat. It was still dark, although only just, and a strong bleeze blowing. She didnt have a plan, not a proper one, only to arrive at the junction, at the traffic lights, and follow in the direction they were headed yesterday morning. It wasnt too forlorn. London was an impossible place anyway. She needed a point to begin. This was the best, the obvious. Where else? There wasnt any else.
If others saw it differently. How could they? That was them if they did. Helen was Helen; she could only do her best. She paid the driver and set off walking. At least it was dry.
The driver didnt drive off immediately, he was watching to see where she went. Strange how they did that.
She
crossed the road, glancing over her shoulder, walking steadily towards the corner under the streetlights. The street off from the main road. She walked towards here, and along. It was quiet. And risky; of course it was. Women should be able to walk the street at night but there is a difference between should and could. If she had been giving advice to Sophie or any young girl it would have been never to do what now she was doing. But people do things and they have to; it is wrong to see choices, not if there arent any.
It was almost like claustrophobic. Or no, what was it? Some other phobic. A phobia. She had experienced a thing similar in the past to do with confidence, and her ex, it was him and whatever, she didnt know what to do just like standing still, that was all, like a panic but just so quietly and that cold sweat, just so – not able to move.
She was not cold. She didnt feel cold, she wasnt, except shivering, if she did, if she was.
She was cold.
On the other side of the street, what was that? a walkway? There was a grass verge then a walkway, concealed partly by bushes. This skirted down a little slope. How close was the river? One of the main city bridges was less than what away? A good walk. In this vicinity homeless people were rumoured to live underground. Caroline believed it: Jill didnt. Neither did Helen because where? It seemed impossible. Although there were places farther along where the bank of the river rose quite high and you could imagine underground chambers and passages. Old London, it was a creepy place with these old underground streets and stuff from ages back. It was so not far-fetched. Really. And these old mine-workings. Nobody even knew where they were, except they were everywhere, old mines and dead bodies, trapped workmen in their vaults, collapsed beams and landslides, all the coal breaking through and smothering you, like the worst dream imaginable, being a miner. These underground places could connect via the sewers, like in movies about New York, opening a cover in the street and hearing voices, seeing lights and down you go and people all are living there, flotsam and jetsam, the dregs, they called them the dregs but they were just people. But how ever could they enter without being seen? The police stood by and watched, or else had their camcorders in position, recording everybody, escaped murderers and serial killers. You couldnt believe what you heard or read. People blabbed and told lies in the newspapers and television, reporters and politicians, men of the church, you saw their faces when they were telling you, child abusers, and they were just like blabbing and it was all lies, people hanging themselves and apples in their mouths, to do with perversions and all the sordid details, dressing up like chickens or babies wearing nappies. Laughable if it wasnt so dreadful, and they didnt care if it was babies anyway, they didnt care, just like their own needs and desires.
