How Late It Was How Late Read online

  And his face was fucking horrible! Christ ye couldnay forget something like that. Mind you Sammy had seen a few guys snuffed it afore the quacks got to them, and their faces were usually like that. Ye’re supposed to be at peace when ye die but are ye fuck man ye’re fucking staring death in the face and it’s fucking horrible man you better believe it, death, know what I’m saying. Fucking con. Same with the maw, when she snuffed it: Sammy was inside at the time and they didnay let him out for the funeral. So he missed the peaceful slumber and all that. His sister wrote to him and telt him all about it. What a fucking wind up! But every cunt seems to fall for it, that was what Sammy couldnay understand. His maw! Peaceful slumber! Fuck sake man she would have went kicking and fucking booting and screaming. No way would she have looked like that. Everytime ye saw that peaceful slumber look it just meant they’d been got at by the fucking medical authorities or else the quacks. Then that wee black guy there’s another yin christ the cell two down from Sammy the last time he was in. Supposed to have died with a heart attack; twenty-seven years of age; the cunts suffocated him, they sat on top of him then bounced up and down, big fucking screws, bouncing up and down on him, a heart attack, these bastards man know what I’m saying, him with his wee fucking headset, that’s all he done, listened to his fucking music, ye heard it sometimes, it fucking hypnotised ye, tumatumatumti tumatumatumti. Stretched out with that peaceful smile. Fucking lying bastards. Know what I mean. Fuck sake. It’s all the lies man that’s what gets ye.

  They arenay things to think about. Alright when ye’re outside but no when ye’re in. Ye can think of them outside but no inside, no when ye’re actually inside. Cause it drives ye nuts. It drives ye fucking nuts. Ye see them, ye see them walking about. What ye do, ye get on with yer stuff, yer exercises, the survival operations, the auld dynamic tension, ye get stuck into that, ye look after the body, look after the body, build up the fucking body, dont despair but ask for more, dont despair but ask for more, ye batter on, ye push ahead, that’s what ye do; Sammy could have done with a wee headset himself, a bit of music

  blowing everytime you shut your mouth,

  blowing from the back room heading south

  Auld Dylan. Sammy hadnay heard that yin for years. Where do they come from eh! where do they come from. Yer fucking brains man they live a life of their own, ye’ve got nay fucking control, nayn at all. Thank christ for that.

  The hand gripping his shoulder. A grunt: Come on you. That way they get ye. They walked him out the cell, and along and back into the office. They chucked him his stuff and went about their business like he wasnay there, a mere formality, a dod of shite. He fumbled the belt round the trousers but then they were back. He had hardly got the thing through the fucking loops. I need a sit down for these shoelaces, he said.

  They werenay talking to him so he groped for a chair. Okay, he said, just till I lace them.

  He heard them in the background; it was Wednesday afternoon. Quite good news. Except was it this week or next week, the way Sammy’s head was it might have been anything. Fucking tired as well man he had this urgent need to lie down and rest, that was all he wanted. Even just finding a floor. If he could just fucking lie down. There was a ringing in his ears and the body was still aching and fucking sore. They were gony let him go the now and he wasnay ready. A wee bit more time man that was what he needed, just to adjust. The fucking toes as well, they were nipping; these shoes, bloody terrible, the wee pinky toes felt like they had lumps on them, like snailbacks or something. He flexed his feet; so cramped, fucking hell it was like they were about three sizes too wee for him.

  And it was always them, these bastards, always at their convenience, every single last bit of time, it was always them that chose it; ye never had any fucking choices. Everything ye fucking did in life it was always them, fucking them, them them them, like greedy weans thrashing about looking for the tit. Right now, said one of them, come on.

  The hand on his shoulder my fuck it would have been nice, it would have been nice, know what I’m saying, dirty bastards, Sammy would have fucking loved it; get yer fucking hand off my fucking shoulder ya bastard ye just dont fucking touch me

  Come on you

  Coming…

  Somebody had him by the elbow and there was more of them roundabout. Okay, he said. They led him to the door. All the clacking and muttering. He closed his eyes. It was alright. Everything was alright. They were walking him into space and his legs were keeping up, his feet, it was all fine it was just like clomp clomp clomp went his feet that was fine, into space, clomp clomp for fuck sake. Dont fucking drag me, he said, ye’re dragging me dont fucking drag me ye’re fucking dragging me, I cannay see for christ sake know what I’m talking about.

  Give us peace, muttered one of them.

  Ye’re forcing me forward but what’re ye forcing me forward for!

  This guy doesnay want to leave!

  Here!

  Sammy felt the draught from the door; it was opened for him and he moved forwards alone. The door shut behind him. There was the steps. He poked his foot forwards to the right and to the left jesus christ man that’s fine, to the right and to the left, okay, fucking doing it ye’re doing it; okay; down the steps sideways and turning right, his hands along the wall, step by step, reminding ye of that patacake game ye play when ye’re a wean, slapping yer hands on top of each other then speeding it up. Sammy wasnay going very fast at all, he was going quite slow really, being honest, it was slow, slow work; slap, slap, slap, slap, slap; okay but cause he was moving, he wasnay standing still and that was fine cause that was all ye needed, even the auld toad or whatever it is, that slow thing, it gets there man it gets there and beats the thingwy, the fast yin, the hare, it was okay, ye just took it easy and contented yerself

  along to the corner and then the sudden blast of wind for christ sake like he had got jailed in the spring and let out in the middle of winter. It was warm when they took him in! That was what he remembered anyway, warm, the warm. Maybe it wasnay him they lifted! Maybe it was some other cunt! Maybe it wasnay him, him here

  Jesus christ that was a mental thing to think, he had to watch it, really, he had to watch it, the auld bloody thingwy, the brainbox, okay, ye just move

  Okay.

  Jesus christ.

  Patacake patacake; patacake patacake. My fucking christ. That was what ye did but patacake patacake, ye kept going, ye kept going. It was gony turn fine in a minute. It was all gony disappear. In a puff of smoke. Ye want a happy ending. I’ll give ye one. So okay, ye’ve had this bad time. Ye’ve been blind. Ye’ve lost yer sight for a few days and it’s been bad. Ye’ve coped but ye’ve fucking coped

  I mean that was something about Sammy, yer man, know what I’m saying, a lot of cunts would have done their box. But he hadnay. He had survived it. He was sane. It had been bad. But now it was over. And here he was and he was out and away and he was free. The nightmare was over. So how come he still couldnay see fuck all?

  I mean

  Jesus christ.

  Okay. Okay. For fuck sake.

  Take it easy. It’s okay man ye take it easy. Big breaths. Take it easy. Ye get on top of the problem, know what I’m talking about, that’s what ye do, that is it, that’s the whack. Ye look around and ye see if it’s this way or that way or what the fuck, so it gets worked out.

  Sammy had stopped walking. In fact he seemed no to have been walking for a long time. He was leaning against a wall. He was. The wall was round the corner from the polis station. It might even have been the polis station, the other side of the fucking building.

  It was fine but, it was alright, ye just took it easy. So ye take it easy. Fuck sake man come on. The present situation, the one he was in right now, that was what he was to examine; nay mind wanderings, this isnay the poky this is yer fucking napper man this is yer head that’s where the nothing is, so okay, ye just examine it.

  And ye dont get into other stuff. It’s right now it’s happening, no last week and no next
week.

  Fair enough, he knew this street well.

  A fag would be good man he was gasping for a smoke; these bastards

  So: he was round the corner from the polis station. They were probably hanging out a window watching him at this very minute. That was all he needed, they’d spit big gobs at him. But alright, nay bother. The bold Sammy. Nay bother.

  So, if this is where he was standing

  Jesus christ. Come on to fuck. Okay, he pushed away from the wall but no too far no too far. The patacake games. But just with the right hand; he forced his left into his trouser pocket, then took it out again cause he needed it, he needed it for balance, he wasnay feeling that hot and just in the off chance he got dizzy; he needed it, free, so… At least he couldnay see cunts looking at him. Cause they would be. They would think he was pissed. They would. That was what they would think. People were like that, that was what they thought, the worst, the world’s worst – about ye, if they wanted to think something about ye well that was what they thought man the worst. Okay, so that was alright. He stopped. He sighed. He folded his arms. Cause his shoulders were aching and he needed a wee rest. Just a wee yin. Jesus christ a fag, he was gasping. Inside he hadn’t been gasping but now he was. He was.

  But how many crossings to the main road? How many wee streets before the big one! It was laughable, no knowing. There were all these things ye think ye’ve committed to memory but have ye! have ye fuck. He needed to ask somebody but how the hell do ye know somebody’s coming when ye cannay see them and there’s a lot of noise about, traffic and fucking the wind man, fuck sake that fucking wind, hell of a breezy.

  A big loud noise like a lorry passing. A few came this way, heading up to the motorway for the long haul south or across the east coast. One time he got a lift straight to Dundee. Some fucking luck. Till he got there right enough, then he found out there was fuck all jobs man, the cunt that telt him had been spinning a fanny, the usual shit. Christ sake but a smoke would be good. If he had had enough for ten fags he could have went into a shop and bought them, then explained the situation, and miracles do happen, the shop assistant might have lent him the taxi-fare home out the till. Or if there was a phone and he could get in touch with Helen. But she didnay have a fucking phone so that was that even if he had had a ten-pence coin man he would still have been fuckt. Unless she was at the pub working. He could phone her there.

  Fuck sake man. He shivered. He was still here, where he had been standing since he had stopped. He couldnay even mind stopping but he had. Cause here he was, he was against the wall, the shoulder against it, just standing there at a standstill, he had come to a standstill. Well nay fucking wonder man nay fucking wonder.

  Ach it was hopeless. That was what ye felt. These bastards. What can ye do but. Except start again so he started again. That was what he did he started again. It’s a game but so it is man life, fucking life I’m talking about, that’s all ye can do man start again, turn ower a new leaf, a fresh start, another yin, ye just plough on, ye plough on, ye just fucking plough on, that’s what ye do, that was what Sammy did, what else was there I mean fuck all, know what I’m saying, fuck all. Mind you it was a bit of a disaster, ye had to own up. A stick would have been useful. A stick would have been ideal, fucking ideal.

  Sammy had stopped, he turned to the tenement wall and leaned his forehead against it feeling the grit, the brick, he scraped his head along it an inch or two then back till he got that sore feeling. The thing is he was going naywhere, naywhere. So he needed to clear the brains, to think; think, he needed to fucking think. It was just a new problem. He had to cope with it, that’s all, that was all it was. Every day was a fucking problem. And this was a new yin. So ye thought it out and then ye coped. That was what a problem was, a thing ye thought out and then coped with, and ye pushed ahead; green fields round every corner, sunshine and blue skies, streets lined with apple trees and kids playing in the grass, the good auld authorities and the headman up there in his wee central office, good auld god with the white beard and the white robe, sitting there watching ye from above, the gentle wee smile, leading the children on. That was fair enough. It was just the now. It was this minute here. That was all; once ye got through it ye were past it. A half hour ago he was in the polis office, an hour from now and he would be in the house, a cup of tea and the toes in front of the fire, maybe a basin of hot water; Helen fussing about worrying – she’s got the day off; she’s just glad to see ye cause here ye are

  His chin too he had a hell of a stubble, he hadnay shaved since Friday morning.

  Deep breaths. A car going by, it sounded like a taxi.

  Wild. Fucking wild.

  He brought his shoulder away from the wall but then he banged against it, lurched right into it and stumbled for christ sake, he righted himself and got his hands flat against it. This was really weird. Like sometimes how ye’re smoking a bit of dope and ye keep coming in and out of thoughts, or else the same thought with fractured spaces and before ye get to a space there’s a big noisy build-up like yer head’s gony explode and ye hold yer eyes shut, tight shut, the face all tensed up, teeth clenched, cause ye know these bastards too they’re fucking there man these bastards they fucking hate ye telling ye they fucking hate ye man they want to see ye done in, that’s what they’re looking for

  So okay, what ye’re doing ye’re moving off, the same direction ye’re facing. Ye stumbled that way and ye’re still facing the same way, there’s no bones about it that’s just how it is man ye arenay going back the way so dont even think it it’s just a nonsense

  How do ye walk. Well ye put one foot in front of the other and fall very slowly, very slowly, just that one foot and then the next yin, just very slowly, ye catch up with yerself, that’s the boy. Ye get going. Dry, a dry wall, that was good it could have been lashing down man that rain cause that was usually what it did it lashed, it lashed down on ye.

  Patacakes.

  Any songs? He could have done with a song. Sammy was the kind of guy, usually his head was full of them, songs

  just fucking ill man and needing help, what kind of help; the fare for a taxi, a bus. A couple of fags. A stick. A stick would show people the situation. A white stick wasnay necessary. Just any stick. He could feel his way with it, hit in front of where he was walking. See a stick! a fucking bastarn stick, that would make all the difference.

  Funny how the sodjers released him, when ye think about it. Nay point in thinking about it. Except see when ye did, know what I’m saying, it was funny.

  A car whooshed by. Maybe if he found the subway station. There was one roundabout. He could tell the folk on the desk he had a blind pass and he had got rolled; some bastard had rolled him man the fucking lot. And maybe they’d escort him down and shove him on the train. Even then but the subway was nay fucking good, it didnay go near where he stayed.

  Ah fuck it.

  But how did he look did he look like a drunk? He hadnay shaved for days man ye kidding, he had nay fucking chance.

  So it was awkward. Okay, but no a nightmare. It wasnay. It was just a thing happening to him. He would get by on it. He knew his strengths. One thing about Sammy he knew his strengths. That was cause he knew his weaknesses. Fucking bullshit. Naw but he felt he could get by on it. Like it was an interesting set of problems he was now having to face at this interesting stage in his life when to be honest sometimes he felt totally fuckt by it all, the fucking thingwy, how it was neverending, neverfuckingending, ye plough on. Sammy had a boy too, imagine that, he would never see him again, unless he got it back again man the auld sight. But maybe he didnay want it back. Once he had time to work it out, the minuses and the pluses, cause there was definitely pluses, there had to be; what sort of pluses; some, there had to be some – at least he wouldnay be doing next week what he was doing last week; at least he wouldnay be doing next week what he was doing last week

  Here, where was he? Here. Okay. One little wee tiny toty smoke. That was fucking all man that was the lot, wha
t he wanted, nothing else, just a fucking smoke

  Okay.

  He grunted aloud for some reason. It was close to a laugh but it wasnay. Fuck it, the best thing was stop some cunt and ask for help. If it was a woman he might even knock it off! she could be into sightless persons! Naw but seriously, it was just how ye looked, if ye looked alright, if ye looked alright ye were fine – if not then ye would frighten them away, if ye didnay look alright man, they would steer clear. They would be steering clear anyway. As soon as they spotted him, yer man, they would keep well out his road. Nay danger. That was a fucking racing certainty. No unless he met some cunt that knew the score. Somebody else that was blind. They would help. He heard a couple of cars passing.

  Weird. Fucking weird. Weird wild and wonderful.

  But there was something in what was happening. There was. Sammy felt it. It was that way when something isnay right, know what I’m talking about, ye get a hunch; ye know it, ye just know it. That was how Sammy felt. It was a hunch. What was it christ it was something? He once read a story about that, some poor cunt that worked as a minor official for some government department and he beavered away all hours but everybody thought he was a dumpling, everybody he knew, they all thought he was a dumpling, poor bastard, that was what he was, a fucking dumpling.