The Master of Chaos

by Pauline Melville

  ‘Thank you very much.’ Gina placed the jar carefully in the bag. She gathered up her things, then put the bright yellow bag over her arm.

  Outside the main entrance Gina stood at the top of the stone steps feeling a little sick. A cold March wind blew strands of hair across her face.

  ‘De ye want me tae chum ye tae the bus stop?’ The lad asked, then seeing her puzzled expression he re-phrased the question:

  ‘Wull ah go with ye tae show ye the way?’

  ‘Oh, please. Thank you.’

  Dave chatted as he strode along:

  ‘It’s ma job tae clean oot the rats in the lab at the university. They keep the rats in an area wi an electrified grid all roon it. It’s ma job tae keep the rats comfortable. I gie them plenty of food an they huv plenty of space. But every time they try tae leave the area they get an electric shock frae the grid. Onyway, they soon learn no tae touch the grid an tae live in comfort. But efter a while they get bored, eh, an they tak the risk. In the end they’ll risk treadin on the grid an gettin an electric shock jist tae get oot intae the unknown an explore an huv a bit of excitement.’

  Gina was hardly listening. She was worried that the brain would be damaged by bumping against the side of the glass jar as they walked.

  ‘I widnae leave a that comfort. Ah’ve been in and oot o children’s hames an in care. Them rats dinna ken when they’re lucky.’

  By now Gina was feeling distinctly unwell. Her cheeks became hot and then cold and an unpleasant overproduction of saliva filled her mouth. She stopped and stood still for a moment. Dave was looking at her. A vertiginous giddiness swirled up from the back of her head. She handed Dave the carrier bag just in time before her legs bent slowly and folded beneath her.

  Dave caught her and helped her sit down on the grass verge.

  ‘Phew. Ye nearly whited. Are ye aw’right?’

  Gina turned her head away and vomited into the grass. Tears came into her eyes.

  ‘Will ah get ye a drink?’

  She nodded. He put the carrier bag down beside her and ran down the road, arms and legs flailing like a windmill. A short while later he re-appeared carrying a can of Irn Bru:

  ‘Hey,’ he said suddenly. ‘I dinnae even ken whaur it is you’re supposed tae be gawin.’

  ‘I’ve got to find a place. I came straight from the airport to the hospital before I found a hotel. I was going to take a bus to the centre of town and find somewhere.’

  Dave sat on the ground and waited for her to recover. He snapped his fingers.

  ‘Ah’ll tell ye whit. I’ll tak ye tae ma pal Jimmy’s place. It’s only doon the road and ye cud lie doon there fur a wee bitty. Ma pal Jimmy, his ma has just died. His brother’s a bit o’ a smack-heid but they’re ok. Ye can find a wee hotel when ye feel better.’

  She nodded. When she felt strong enough they walked on. It was half past ten in the morning. Rows of clammy grey stone houses broke out in a tubercular sweat as the early morning frost melted.

  Dave pushed open the front door of a tall tenement building. A damp chill from the stone stairwell engulfed them. Gina stepped back as four youths clutching cans of Stella Artois came clattering down the stairs. The one in front executed a strange dance step, then when he saw Dave and Gina he put his finger to his lips, pointed to the front door of the ground floor flat to their left and mouthed, ‘Psycho.’

  From under the front door of the ground floor flat came the smell of grass being smoked and the sound of country and western music.

  ‘Psycho’s in,’ explained Dave to Gina. ‘Psycho’s a bit wrang in the heid. He disnae work. He’s only slim but he’s got this enormous swagger on him.’

  The four boys were creeping past Psycho’s flat.

  Suddenly Psycho’s front door opened. A short man with a scar the size of a ravine running from the side of his mouth stood in the doorway:

  ‘Mmmn. Four drunkie boys.’ He rubbed his hands together as he saw the four youths. The boys fell over each other trying to get away from him. Psycho followed them into the street. When they were at a safe distance one of them turned back, kicked an empty can of Stella at him and shouted:

  ‘Haw. Have ye got a licence for that swagger?’

  Psycho stood in the street staring after the boys.

  As he led Gina up the stairs Dave explained. ‘Sometimes Psycho gets ye by the scruff of the neck then he pushes your head doon so your nose is nearly touchin the pavement an maks ye recite all the names of the Rangers fitba’ team. If ye get wan wrong ye get battered.’

  In the front room of the first floor flat two dark haired lads sat on the floor in front of a black plastic settee whose torn surface spilled stuffing. Their heads wagged with mischievous sagacity in time to ear-splitting hard house music. The only colour in the room came from the television which blazed like a bunch of flowers in the corner. One of the lads held up a bandaged thumb in greeting.

  Dave shouted over the music: ‘This is Gina. She needs somewhere tae lie doon. Whaur’s Jimmy?’

  The bandaged thumb pointed to a pair of bare legs sticking out of an armchair opposite the television.

  Dave glanced over. ‘Mornin telly’s shite. Whit happent tae your thumb?’

  ‘Three stitches. Ah smashed it through a windae efter ma step-dad wis giein us grief, eh.’

  Gina felt hot and light-headed. She stood in the doorway cradling the yellow plastic bag in her arms. The room reeked of stale beer and there was ash in the crevices of the cheap patterned carpet. A black plastic bag containing jigsaws and old children’s games had spilled some of its contents near the door. Dave trod through the debris of empty beer cans and torn cigarette packets and went over to the figure asleep in the chair. He tried to shake it awake.

  ‘Haw, Jimmy.’ He turned to Gina. ‘He’s been sleepin a lot since his maw died.’

  Jimmy woke up. The face that peered tentatively around the back of the chair had wide spavined cheekbones and deep-set hazel eyes. His near transparent complexion was tinged with the blue pallor of skimmed milk. His teeth were discoloured and pearly grey. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his fists and looked around blearily.

  Jimmy’s mother had died on a freezing night some ten weeks previously, a few days before his sixteenth birthday. She was thirty-nine years old and had suffered a deep vein thrombosis. Her boyfriend had found her dead on the sofa in the morning. Jimmy had no jacket for the funeral. He wore a clean white shirt and a blue knotted tie and wept throughout. The night of the funeral his mother’s boyfriend cleared out for good, leaving him and his seventeen-year-old brother on their own. The flat with no adults in it had become a magnet for the boys’ pals.

  ‘But ah still see him,’ Jimmy told them. ‘He gies us money for bread an milk an at. Ma real dad turned up fur the funeral. When he saw I hud nae jaiket he came roond an brought me this jaiket. Then he starts greetin and wailin. He was steamin, eh.’ Jimmy mimicked him: ‘Oh ma son. Ma son. Here ye are, ma son. Here’s somethin fur ye.’ He gied me this jaiket an a block of cheese frae the kitchens in the hospital whaur he works then he niver came back. So I’ve hud lots of cheese on toast and macaroni cheese since ma maw died.’

  ‘Jimmy. There’s a girl here. She’s sick, eh. She’s Italian. Can she lie doon here fur a wee while, eh?’

  Jimmy got to his feet, stretched slowly and yawned. A creased shirt hung halfway down his bare thighs. His shoulder blades protruded like angular wings. He had slept the night where he lay in the chair.

  ‘Wha?’

  Just then there was a loud regular thumping sound from the flat above. Jimmy yawned again and picked up the broom leaning against the television. He thumped the ceiling several times with the long handle. Then he explained.

  ‘When we play oor music too loud the people upstairs they bang down at us and we bang up at them.’

  One of the boys on the sofa started to yell up at the ceiling in time to the music:

  ‘Oi oi you nutters. Oi oi you nutters.’

  ‘Fuc
king shut up a minute, ye cunt,’ Jimmy complained. He turned to Dave. ‘Whit’s that ye’re sayin?’

  ‘She nearly passed oot. She needs tae lie down. Could she no have your mam’s bed?’

  ‘Nah.’ Jimmy looked anguished. ‘That’s ma mam’s room. I havenae touched it since she died.’ He turned to Gina. ‘Mam kept her bedroom door locked because we used tae steal things. Noo I wish we hadnae. Wid ye be wantin a cup of tea or sumthin?’

  Gina shook her head. She slid weakly down the door jamb and sat on the floor. The hairclip fastening her hair came undone and her blonde hair fell loose around her shoulders as she put her head in her hands. This had an effect on the boys. They all stared at her. The two sitting on the sofa stood up to leave as if something untoward had happened which required their departure before they were held responsible for anything.

  ‘Ok. See youse a later,’ they said as they edged past Gina and out through the door.

  Dave followed them and they all disappeared down the stairs. Jimmy was left on his own looking sullen and annoyed.

  ‘I suppose I could let you intae ma mam’s room. But don’t touch anythin.’ He found the key to the room and opened it. Gina went in first.

  The musty sadness of the room enveloped her. A double bed with a cheap veneer headboard took up most of the space. It was covered by a pink candlewick bedspread. An old wardrobe was crammed in next to the door. On the bedside table was a heart-shaped photograph frame with a picture of Jimmy and his elder brother Brian. Jimmy spotted his mother’s teeth in a glass by the bed:

  ‘That’s ma mam’s teeth there. The hospital gied us them back.’ He stared at them. Gina looked down at her yellow carrier bag and remained silent.

  ‘Ah’ll just leave you, then. The bathroom’s doon the corridor at the end.’

  As soon as Jimmy shut the door behind him Gina stowed the yellow bag under the bed, lay down and fell into an exhausted asleep. She woke at three in the morning knowing she was going to be violently sick. Feeling her way down the narrow hall to the bathroom she passed the open door of the front room. By the light of the TV she could see Jimmy’s figure hanging half upside down off the edge of the sofa, one leg thrown over the back.

  When she had finished being sick in the bathroom she made her way to the kitchen. Someone had stubbed a cigarette out in a jar of marmalade. She found a tea-stained mug and took some water back to the bedroom.

  In the numb grey light of morning she was awoken by fierce incomprehensible whispers outside her door.

  ‘Ah telt ye no tae bring that stuff in here. I promised mam ah wouldnae touch it.’

  ‘Ye don’t huv tae fuckin touch it. Ah wis blootered with it last night though. Who is this lassie anyway?’

  ‘Ah dunno. Italian or summat. She’s sleepin.’

  ‘Ask her if she’s got ony money.’

  ‘You ask.’

  ‘Did you lift up her skirt and have a look.’

  ‘Naw. At least Ah’ve got some morals.’

  ‘Huv ye fuck ye wee cunt. Yir jist a poof.’

  Jimmy took a swing and landed a crashing punch on his brother’s chin. A minute later the flat was resounding to vicious thumps and bangs and hoarse yells:

  ‘Get oot of ma fuckin room. Get oot. You jist comes into ma room and tak things.’

  ‘Let me borrow them jeans.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ya selfish wee bastard. Yir no wearin them.’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  A door slammed. Gina could hear someone singing to the rap music that suddenly roared through the flat: Fuck you too motherfucker.

  The music hammered through the air making the walls vibrate and worsening her headache.

  Jimmy poked his head around the door. A bluish transparency about him reminded her of an embryonic baby bird fallen prematurely from the nest. She lifted her head from the bed.

  ‘I’m sorry. I am still sick. I have a bad flu I think.’

  ‘D’ye want a cup of tea or anythin? Ah heard ye spewin up in the night.’ Jimmy grunted. ‘We wis fightin. It’s ma brother’s fault. We got a warnin frae the council. They sent a man roon tae see us.’

  She raised herself on one elbow :

  ‘I think I am all right. If I can just lie here until I feel better. Then I’ll look for a hotel.’

  Jimmy was unsure of what to do. It felt odd seeing this blonde creature in his mother’s bed. When she spoke. he reared gently away avoiding eye contact but with a faint smile of pleasure on his lips:

  ‘Ah can get ye a bite tae eat. There’s no much here but what I dae is I get a heel of bread an ah toast one side. Then ah put Dolmio sauce on it and a bit of cheese an it’s like a pizza.’

  Gina felt immediately ill. ‘Not just yet, thank you.’ She smiled again. ‘Just because I am Italian doesn’t mean I like pizza.’

  ‘Whit’s bein Italian got tae dae with pizza?’ he asked. This time he looked at her directly and then looked away again ‘If ye hear us rowin dinnae worry. Ma brother Brian is back. Ah fuckin’ hate the bastard. But he’s all I’ve got. We’ve only got each other now.’ He left shutting the door behind him.

  After a few minutes Gina pushed back the thin coverlet and got up. She bent down and pulled the yellow plastic bag and its contents from under the bed. Then she opened the wardrobe door and placed the bag in the bottom of the wardrobe under the few dresses that hung there. She went back to bed. A few minutes later she took the yellow bag out of the wardrobe again and put it back under the bed.

  It was ten past eleven in the morning when Gina emerged. She went into the front room to find Brian. He had a thin, vicious face and an Adam’s apple that bobbed up and down as he talked on his mobile. He was sitting on the sofa naked but for an old green towel tied round his waist. With his other hand he scratched under his arms. When he saw Gina he threw out his slat-ribbed chest, stretched his arms in the air and waved hello before switching his phone off.

  ‘Hiya. Ah’m Brian. Jimmy’s away doon the road at our gran’s.’

  She was bending forward slightly because of pains in her stomach.

  ‘If I gave you some money do you think someone could get me aspirin or something from a chemist for flu?’

  ‘Nae bother.’

  ‘How much money would you need?’

  ‘Jist gie us a sky-diver. A fiver. Huv ye got euros? Can ah hae a look at wan?’

  She showed him a euro which he examined with curiosity then she handed him a twenty-pound note.

  ‘Aw. Magic.’ He grabbed the money. She waited in the kitchen. Twenty minutes later Brian burst back into the flat and began stacking an old box freezer with chips, pizzas and chicken nuggets:

  ‘Weh-hey. The breakfast fairy’s been. Yiv nae idea how good that makes me feel.’ He rubbed his hands together with pleasure and spun on his heel. The front door slammed behind him and he was gone. In the ensuing peace she found the jar of aspirins and a packet of Lemsip.

  Jimmy let himself back into the flat. He was out of breath as he manhandled a hoover into the front room. He came into the kitchen where Gina waited for a kettle to boil. He looked at her directly as he spoke, relating his story in a matter-of-fact monotone which had the detached realism of the messenger in a Greek tragedy:

  ‘I just went tae borrow this Dyson from ma gran. I have tae carry the hoover back and forward ‘cos oors is bust. She’s been greetin ever since ma maw died. They wasnae jist mother and daughter. They wis best pals. They did everything together. They went tae Weight-Watchers together. But when ah got there just noo she’d fell and hit her eye in the bathroom. She wis steamin. She’d drunk a bottle o whisky an a bottle of vodka. Her eye wis a black. I said “Yir gaun tae your bed” an I tried tae put her tae bed but she struggled and then she was hangin oot of the bed and I thought she’d fall. I pushed her to the far side of the bed but she grabbed another bottle and started drinkin that.’ Jimmy’s face was white with distress. ‘She wus cryin and ah didnae know whit tae dae so ah just gied her a cuddle.’


  He had tried to put his grandmother to bed but she wept inconsolably. In the end he gave up. He had left the tenement block to the sound of her shrieking and wailing as she dragged herself up the stairs banging dolefully on each of her neighbours’ doors in turn.

  When he finished speaking he gave Gina a nod as if to indicate that he had finished his report. Then he went back into the front room and switched on the vacuum cleaner.

  *

  In between bouts of sickness and sleep, Gina could detect no regular rhythm to the household in which she found herself. One moment the flat was full of noisy music and there was mysterious shouting and gleeful yells. The next moment there was the sound of running feet and the place was deserted. There were long periods when the flat was empty. Her bones ached and she could not eat. After two days of sickness she wanted to wash. There was no hot water. The shower had broken. The steady thump of a cd playing in the front room rocked the walls. She crept into the bathroom and sponged herself down with cold water from the tap. After that she boiled some water for a better wash. Up and dressed, Gina went in to where Jimmy lay on his bed in his room.

  ‘How’s your gran?’ she asked Jimmy.

  ‘She’s aw right. Ah’ll tak ye roon there when yir feelin better.’

  ‘I feel a bit better now. I must leave soon and find somewhere else to stay. Then I will go back to Italy.’

  ‘Ye can stay here if ye want till yir better.’

  Since Gina’s arrival Jimmy felt that a benign presence had entered the house. He made small attempts to improve things. Just now he was wearing only his jeans because he’d washed his best t-shirt and hung it on a radiator to dry. But the heating had gone off. Jimmy stole glances at her:

  ‘Did ye see ma lamp?’ He leaned over and switched on his bedside lamp. ‘It changes colours. It’s fibre optic. I saw it in a shop. It was only nine pound. It’s nice, eh?’ He watched the lamp’s fluctuating colours. ‘It looks like a tropical fish.’

  He took some hash out of a drawer in the bedside table:

  ‘Wud ye like a wee bit of a doobie? Ah can mak us a joint.’