Children of Albion Rovers

by Laura Hird

  Right, eh jot your address down on a beer mat and I’ll be off, goes Scorgie pulling out the SCOTLAND pen.

  As Duffles wrote down his address, really leaning into the paper, he was saying, I see it all so clearly now, everything so simple. So much work to be done. Sometimes when I’m just sat in a pub looking at people I can see flames in their eyes and when they hold back their heads to laugh I can see this red glow in past their fillings …

  It was the last thing Scorgie heard him say as he lurched up grabbing the beer mat saying, Right Duffles, if I dont find those folk in I’ll see you soon. If I’m no round maybe see you back home, you should try a break.

  Outside Scorgie swayed to one side, gritted his teeth, says, Fucks sake, and tossed the beer mat onto the pavement.

  He walked quickly looking back twice then crossed over the university lands again till he came to 194 Woodlands Road. There was nobody in. Scorgie trotted back down the stair and out into the streets. Up near the top of the road there was a chip shop and cause he noticed he was famished he stood in the queue looking at the floor and shaking his head a couple times. There was a display of a supposed sea bed through a glass panel along the front of the counter. There were shells, plastic starfish and a strange coloured plastic plaice – Scorgie stared at it when the girl behind the counter says, Yes?

  Salt and vinegar please, goes Scorgie.

  Eh? went the girl.

  Salt and vinegar.

  What on? shouts the girl.

  Oh, sorry, eh a fish tea please, says Scorgie.

  Eh?

  No. I’ll have a Mars Bar supper.

  A Mars Bar supper?

  Aye.

  Outside with his Mars Bar supper, Scorgie walked hunched over it, lifting portions out the brown paper and up to his mouth. After eating less than half the food he flung the whole thing in a bin while walking on, rubbing his fingers up and down the wet suit sleeves.

  He walked into the first place he came to. It was a sort of wine bar place. He ordered a Guinness, put it down on a table near the toilets and went in for a slash. Back in the bar he stood by a pillar with the glass tipped to his mouth as he nuzzled away at the head of froth. A few folk looked over at him while he drained the pint. He zipped up the jacket hiding the silver shirt then took his glass back up and ordered another pint. When he got back to the pillar he didn’t touch the full pint but left it sat on the table where he could reach it. Scorgie stood for a bit holding his chin pressed down into his collar bone and he burped out.

  His face got very pale then Scorgie slapped his hand up to his mouth to stop the two jets of vomit shooting out his nostrils. He reached the Gentlemens in one step, shouldered in the outer door and another step took him to the cubicle door, leant slightly forward …

  ENGAGED

  Scorgie booted the cubicle door with a deft clip at the same time dropping his hands allowing the clods of spew to burst out all over the bare thighs of the startled looking big guy sat on the toilet having a dump.

  Scorgie tried to turn the jet of orangey-coloured gadge away from the shouting man but it splattered off the cubicle partition with little yellow shards of some vegetable matter settling in the guy’s hair. Scorgie took one gasp of breath then as the big guy with his trousers about his feet began to rise, Scorgie punched him as violently as he could, on the nose. Scorgie felt the bridge bone pulverise and slide sideways against his ring and the big fellow’s back hit against the cistern knocking the enamel top out of place. The guy sat back in the seat, head forwards and dark blood started pattering onto the hairy thighs.

  Scorgie spat on the floor and says, Oh, jesus I’m sorry pal, but I mean who has a shite in a pub?

  Once out and walking quick up the road, Scorgie looked down where the sharp pain on his finger was. The punch had driven the gold ring with the image of Saint Columba into his flesh. He shook the hand and says, Oh remorse.

  Scorgie took a right into a less busy street then left into another. At the far end he came out on a busy boulevard that he knew as The Great Road.

  Over by the row of concrete traffic bollards two young women were arguing with an older man who was wearing a bright pullover pulled tight over his paunch. Scorgie closed his eyes and opened them. Tears of affection for the man gave diamonds on the streetlamps.

  Just some simple photos. All the gear’s up the house, says the guy.

  No way, cause what comes next? went the taller of the girls, then she lifted a lemonade bottle to her mouth.

  Thats up to yous girls and how much of a buzz yous like out life.

  If you dont mind me saying so pal, youre a perv, goes the other girl.

  Hey, hear this? He’s trying to take us up his flat to take scuddy photos of us, the taller girl bawled at Scorgie, looking over at him.

  Aye? Its a city of photographers this, went Scorgie, moving closer to the group.

  Thats some clothes youve got on there.

  Thats real class that is, real class, says the plumper of the two girls.

  Scorgie nodded and goes, I’ve been in the back of beyond away at a rave.

  The Vision? Jay and I like Soul, eh?

  Aye: STOP IN THE NAME OF, the two girls started singing out of time and throwing their arms round each other.

  Want a blast? goes the smaller girl waving the bottle that she was holding.

  Scorgie tipped the bottle right back then stepped in a circle to spit a mouthful back onto the pavement where it fizzed busily on the concrete.

  Hoi, thats a right waste that.

  I thought it was only juice.

  You must be joking. Do you no drink or something?

  Too right, I’ve just chugged up and I’m parched, says Scorgie.

  Jay, Jay hear this? The boy’s just chugged up.

  Thats a shame this early.

  I’m dying to get a sleep, I’ve been up two nights but I’m locked out this flat on Woodlands Road, went Scorgie.

  Aye? we’re locked out too. We’re meant to be up in that flat there with our pal McLayley whos having his wee party.

  A party? I bet I could lie down there somewhere; no one’s really going to notice eh?

  Well McLayley probably wouldnt mind. Renee, McLayley wouldnt mind if this boy had a wee sleep in his flat eh?

  I can pay him in some gear, I’ve got some tabs on me, went Scorgie.

  McLayley would be into that but we cant get in, the skinnier girl nodded to the tenement corner.

  Have you tried going up? If its a party probably no one can hear yous.

  Naw, its just me, Renee and McLayley’ll be at the party but he doesn’t seem to be in, we’ve buzzed and buzzed.

  Renee goes, He’ll be over at the union for the student happy hour. He’ll be over there.

  Thats a three mile walk, went Jay.

  What in the university lands? says Scorgie.

  Naw, no this uni, the other.

  The other? goes Scorgie.

  Renee started singing a song. It wasnt a soul song and she was waving the bottle about so it fizzed up a paler colour inside.

  Shush, shush, went Jay.

  Sing a decent song, the sash or something, says the older man.

  Renee changed to another song. The only words Scorgie could make out were the chorus where I.R.A. was repeated again and again.

  Going to shush, says Jay and Renee shut up.

  Hey, hey Jacques Cousteau. I was talking to the girls here, says the guy in the pullover holding his hands out to Scorgie in appeal.

  Jacques Cousteau! screamed Renee and both the girls took hysterics of giggles. The girls were bending forwards and backwards in their laughs so’s the two men faced each other across them. Scorgie smiled at the man.

  I dont reckon you can handle it, Scorgie says quietly.

  What? went the guy.

  I dont believe you can handle it, I dont reckon you can mount the blood-red horse of strife and stay on it.

  What? goes the guy.

  And to him that sat upon it there was
given to take peace from the earth, and to bring it about that men should slay each other, and a great sword was given to him. Revelation Six, says Scorgie.

  The guy shook his head and chuckled. Scorgie lifted the broken skin of his finger up to his mouth and he started licking the blood round the cold metal.

  We’re away with Jacques Cousteau, shouted Renee, grabbing Scorgie by the arm and twisting him round.

  Scorgie looked back and the guy in the pullover put his hands in his pockets and started shouting, Yous are losers girls, losers do you hear, yous are going nowhere, nowhere!

  Away and fuck pervy, shouted Renee not looking back.

  Jay had linked the other arm of Scorgie and it was when they were in motion it became clear to him how utterly mortal both the girls were. They advanced in a way that was partly pulling him and partly falling, the different weights of the tall and short girl along with the erratic steps, pivoted Scorgie from side to side while they kept up a non-stop spray of conversation.

  They were moving up the wide pavement forcing other parties of folk coming the other way, to step aside.

  Hey Jacques Cousteau, our mate’s called McLayley McLayley and we’re off to find him.

  Thats right.

  McLayley McLayley?

  Thats right.

  Where you from Jacques Cousteau?

  From one of the far places.

  Here, went Renee and she dunted the end of the bottle against Scorgie’s teeth. He pretended to drink then handed the mix of whisky and Irn Bru back.

  Renee started singing another song and passing groups of boys seemed to be jeering at the three of them.

  Shut it, youre going to get us our teeth kicked in, says Jay.

  The three of them had reached a network of traffic islands, spiral pedestrian bridges and a mass of headlights flowing beneath them into the sodium lamps of an underpass. Renee took a last slug of the bottle then flung it into the alcove of an emergency exit to some building. The glass exploded out across the pavement and Scorgie glanced around.

  They crossed the roads and were at the bottom of a main street with Renee singing as they moved through the lights. Outside a bar called Oceans Eleven Renee says, Thats the place for you Jacques.

  Let’s set sail then, goes Scorgie.

  Press on, went Jay.

  Renee started singing again and a girl coming out of Oceans Eleven snapped, Going to shut up you pape cow.

  Renee tried to tug free but Scorgie jerked her back and the guy that was with the girl was tugging her saying, Her brothers in the army in Belfast for fuck sake.

  Sorry pal, she’s steaming, goes Scorgie and the guy nodded and walked away pulling the girl with him.

  You’d better cool it on the sectarian top ten, went Scorgie.

  I’m bursting to pee, shouted Renee. She looked up above the glass doorway they were adjacent to. It was a long sheet glass frontage with books and leaflets in the window, a pillar painted a buff colour was before the doorway then another long glass section continued. Renee read out the words above the door.

  Centre for Contemporary Arts. Here you stand there Jacques Cousteau and you get there, hen, says Renee. Scorgie stood in the gap to the left of the pillar, Jay to the right. Renee started undoing her jeans and tugging them down.

  Fucks sake Renee, goes Jay.

  Scorgie coughed and turned round to look out across the wide street. Even though Scorgie’s height threw a shadow on Renee where she was cooried down on her hunkers, by looking through either side of the glass corners anybody could see in.

  A gang of about ten lads appeared.

  Jesus boys, look at this.

  Evening gentlemen, says Scorgie.

  Ha, ha, for fucks sake, says a lad pushing his head round Scorgie’s side. When Scorgie tried to position himself in the guy’s view it allowed two other wee fellows to take up a viewing position to his other side.

  Hi, fuck off! Renee shouted behind Scorgie.

  One lad shouted, Here is the weather forecast, fucking golden showers on Sauchiehall Street.

  Jay was shoving two guys back, snarling, Thats my fucking mate you weasely wank.

  Are you waiting for a shite or something darling? says one guy to Jay’s face and dodged out her way, laughing.

  Look at the bush on it, pointed another lad and then Scorgie could hear the tinkle of Renee’s belt as she mustve been pulling up her jeans.

  Oh, for fucks sake! a guy moaned and he lifted one of his slip-on moccasins. There was a sucking sound. Scorgie looked down: a large flood of Renee’s dark pish-liquid was running in different streams round and under the guy’s shoes then spreading in rivulets across the slope of the wide pavement, wiggling a route through a summer’s dust and into the gutter.

  All the guys jamp back and started scraping their footwear on the pavement and muttering. There was a complete puddle round Scorgie’s trainers. He turned, saw Renee fiddling with her belt buckle and he stepped out onto the pavement.

  Look at your man here, one guy says.

  Yons a fucking diving suit he’s on.

  Hi, you’d need a diving suit with her about.

  Jay was waving at Scorgie from further up the road, Hih Renee cmon, come on.

  Scorgie took Renee by the arm and tried to lead her on up the road but she stepped in front of him and spoke in a low voice, Jacques Cousteau, I think you’re real class; then she pulled his head down on her lifted-up mouth. Her tongue moved in, behind Scorgie’s teeth and jumped about. She was grinding Scorgie’s face onto hers by pulling and massaging at the back of his neck with her long gold-ringed fingers. Neck hairs of Scorgies kept getting snapped on the rings and their roots pinged. He could hear the big crowd of lads all cheering as he kissed on, just wanting to close his eyes and sleep. Right there leaned on the plate of Renee’s face and her long body against him; though he could feel through her pullover the shiny material of the slip she’d on under, Scorgie just wanted to sleep, to dangle down onto the pavement. Sleep.

  Renee pulled back and looked down at her feet taking a breath.

  Is she too much for you pal? shouted one of the boys. Renee began shifting and snogging at him again then Jay was pulling them apart and the three of them were leaving the shouting boys behind. They were walking on, not talking till Jay says, We mustve walked for miles.

  Groups of people were moving in the opposite direction eating out of take-away food packages that steam was rising from.

  I’m starving, goes Jay.

  We’ve got to follow the yellow brick road to the union where we’ll find McLayley McLayley, Renee told them.

  They had crossed the university lands and moved through the sunken street where clots of night people were walking erect down the feeder lanes onto the main drag. Groups of suited men gathered round tight dressed girls with electric hair; a million pieces of jewellery were picking up the busy movements of cabs and buses then the three turned from the noise and light into a deserted concrete courtyard. A tall brick hall with needle-thin window strips that changed colour to a repeating beat was over the way. They un-linked hands and climbed the wide apron of low steps to a row of about twenty doors. They began trying to push or pull one of them open while a guy at a desk inside watched them curiously.

  Aha! goes Jay and she disappeared inside. Renee and Scorgie followed.

  Do you know McLayley McLayley, says Jay to the guy at the desk.

  McLayley who?

  McLayley McLayley.

  McLayley McLayley?

  Aye.

  No.

  We’re here to see if he’s up the stair. We cant find him.

  Have you got your matric cards?

  Hah, we’re not students, neither’s McLayley McLayley but he used to be and he comes here with friends that sign him in. If I could just go up for a wee look?

  I cant let you in without a card.

  Ah, just for a wee look.

  Scorgie says, The lassie just wants to check if he’s there and she’s gone; we’ve nowhere
to stay tonight less we find this guy.

  Look its just shutting up there, strict license, we’ve already lost it twice so they chuck everyone out in ten minutes, no exceptions.

  What is it you study pal? goes Scorgie.

  Pardon?

  Do you study computer science?

  No.

  Scorgie nodded at the guy then says, Cmon, we’ll wait outside.

  Renee sat on the steps with her legs amazingly wide apart. She vomited repeatedly onto the concrete. She spat a few times then moved along the steps and sat a good way from where she’d done the sicking up. She gripped her legs and tugged them up to her.

  Scorgie was lying on his back looking up into the orangey sky turning above him. He’d sat up for a moment to watch the process of Renee throwing up then he’d lain back again.

  Who is your friend McLayley McLayley?

  Jay, standing over him smoking a cigarette says, He’s just this nutter, he’s funny, all these terrible things happen to him. He’s a dropout from everything. He lives in that flat with his wee doggy Ratto.

  Where do you and Renee live?

  Way out on The Orbital.

  The Orbital?

  Aye.

  If we dont find this McLayley McLayley can I come back and crash at yours?

  Jay shrugged, Dont know what Mum’ll say.

  I could always go to a club but if I fall asleep they’ll chuck me out. My train’s no till eight and I’ve got all these tabs on me.

  Just take them, that’ll keep you awake.

  Ah, not me. I dont take drugs anymore.

  Isnt that all you do. At your Visions?

  Not me, I’m praying and thinking all the time. They’re great places to go for a praying. We all used to go, me and my friends, my team doing our praying and thinking, this was years back when it was all underground but we dont go anymore, we’re saving our money for The Big One.

  The big one? goes Jay.

  Aye. The Big One.

  We dont know what The Big One is ourselves but we all know its coming, coming soon … My father … died three years ago, I’d taken some tabs and sleeping pills, I went off the end of the world and I never came back, I travelled to a strange place, I couldnt remember how I got there. I’d wandered out beyond the concession lands, I had all these visions, thought I was getting chased by black helicopters and I was mortally terrified of trees … Scorgie’s voice, hoarse and monotonous filled in the collage of traffic noise then merged with the babble of folk pouring out the rows of doors. The groups of people moved down the stairs and walked round Scorgie’s stretched-out-body.