How Late It Was How Late Read online

  Hey, excuse me! Excuse me. Look eh sorry to bother ye; I’m blind and I’ve lost my wallet, I was robbed.

  …

  Sorry to bother ye. It’s just I dont know where I am, I was round the road there and two young guys hit me, at the bank, the hole-in-the-wall machine, I was drawing money

  …

  Hullo? Hullo? Ye there? Hullo?

  My god. There was somebody there. There was definitely somebody there. They were away now but they had been there, definitely, if they werenay now, they had been.

  Unless they just werenay talking. Maybe suspicious. He started speaking in a calm voice. If ye’re there, he said, sorry for bumping into ye, it’s just I’m blind. Somebody took my wallet, with all my documents. I’m blind. Sorry. I just… Hullo? Ye there?

  …

  Hullo?

  Fucking hell. There was people passing. He heard them. He was fucking blind man he wasnay deaf. He wanted to grab them and tell them, fucking tell them and he turned about, he had lost the wall, he moved for it with his hands out but he had lost it he had lost the bastard and his foot struck something hard and he went to the left and the same foot skited off something and down he went and all he could do was lie there, just lie, no knowing nothing, what to do, nothing. A motor whooshed past, hell of a loud and near. He moved to the right to touch the kerb but couldnay find it. He reached the other way, the left, his hand out but he couldnay find it, the kerb, he reached further. Then stopped. More traffic. Help, he said. He was on the road. Surely no. Surely he wasnay on the fucking road man he couldnay be; Help, he said. Fuck sake man he couldnay be. Mutter mutter. Voices. He got onto his knees then up, keeping as tight in the movements as possible, so he would be standing where he had been lying, his arms held out, he shouted: Help! Help!

  Mutter mutter.

  Help! Get me off the road! Help!

  …

  He kicked about with his right foot to get the kerb. Help! I’m blind I’m bloody blind, I cannay see. Help!

  He says he’s blind.

  Get us on the pavement help!

  Ye’re on the pavement.

  This hand from nowhere gripping him by the forearm and another hand up near his shoulder, and a voice: Ye alright?

  Aye… Sammy heard his own voice, it was croaking.

  Silence for a minute then somebody said, He’s alright. Then more silence.

  And Sammy said: Where am I?

  …

  Whereabouts is this? Anybody there? Eh? Ye there? Hullo! Ye there? Hullo! Hullo! Ye there?

  The name of fuck! Then loud muttering. People talking.

  Hullo?

  He couldnay hear them properly. Where am I? he said. Hullo? I’m blind. Gony help me?

  …

  Gony help me! Eh? Hullo? Jesus christ. Hullo? I’m blind. Hullo. Where am I? Hullo? I’m bloody blind please help me if ye just bloody tell me where the hell I am for fuck sake hullo? I’m lost.

  What’s up? what is it?

  What?

  Are ye alright?

  I dont know where I am. I’m blind, I’ve lost my stick. Where is this?

  Davis Street.

  Davis Street?

  Just at the corner of Napier Street.

  Right.

  Ye’re outside the post office.

  …

  What’s wrong?

  Sammy couldnay talk. He felt bad – nervous – really nervous – like he was gony have a fit of shaking, something like that.

  What’s up?

  Naw just I’m blind ye know I’m eh…eh…is there a pub somewhere roundabout?

  Well aye, The Blazer, it’s across the road. Ye want across?

  Aye.

  Give us yer arm then… The guy took it and waited a wee minute then started and he led Sammy right off the pavement and the way he went it didnay seem in a straight line and ye wondered if he was working his way in and out moving vehicles and hadnay even bothered to wait for the lights to change if there were lights there it was fucking murder no knowing where he was taking ye and ye might kick into the guy’s heels and then yez would both take a tumble; just nay control at all really and ye wanted to take wee toty steps but ye couldnay cause ye had to move ye had to keep going, ye had to do it proper, and Sammy was feart to open his mouth in case the guy lost his concentration or else took the needle and just left him there and fuckt off in the huff man it sounded like it was busy, the junction, it was quite busy, the Napier Street traffic, he could hear it

  Up ye go now, said the guy, that’s the pavement.

  Sammy reached forwards with his foot. Then he was up.

  Alright?

  Whhw.

  Eh?

  Aye…I’m going to the wall.

  What?

  See the wall, could ye take me to the wall?

  The wall?

  Just to the side of the pub.

  The guy got Sammy by the arm and took him there and Sammy leaned against it. His guts were bad and he was shaking, he felt fucking lousy aw the gether. There had to be other ways cause this was nerve-racking. He was gony stay where he was, he was just gony stay there. Till he had recovered. Till he had got his breath back. Fuck the fucking passers-by. His belly was fucking in knots man telling ye. He was aware of his breathing and tried to get it going shallow, there was a kind of flashing going on in his head and that buzzing in his ear man it was loud ye know it was loud. They must have clobbered him there surely, it wasnay just the usual, it was never as loud as this afore. Unless it went with the blindness. Probably it affected the hearing as well as the sight, whatever it was.

  This was the world’s worst. There was nay doubt about that, nothing as bad as this. If he had been in any doubt afore then he wasnay now.

  Never. Fucking never. Never as bad as this. It was alright saying ye had to relax, ye had to take it easy, it was alright saying that but ye cannay always manage. No if it was the worst ye had, if it was the worst; cause it was fucking happening and it wasnay a nightmare it was right fucking now, right fucking now so okay, okay, ye still had to relax, ye still had to take it easy, okay, ye had to get it under control, it wasnay a time for cracking up, we’ve all cracked up, we know what fucking cracking up means, this wasnay a time for it, know what I’m saying, this wasnay a time for it, so there’s nay fucking problem ye just let it go, let it go. Sammy had folded his arms, he closed his eyes, he felt like sleeping. Propped there against the wall, he was alright, quite fucking safe really; and he felt tired; he felt like dozing off. And if he stayed like this that was what would happen man he would doze off. And then the fucking sodjers would come. Probably they had tailed him from the station anyway. Fucking bastards. He was gony stay there. So what if they tried to fucking lift him I mean what could they fucking charge him with? loitering with intent? A fucking good yin that, loitering with intent – intent to bump into a lamppost; bastards.

  In fact he could have stayed there the rest of the day the way he was feeling.

  The feet were fucking killing him too, these bastard stupit fucking trainers. Somebody brushed past him, he turned to try and tap him for the bus-fare, whoever it was, but stopped. Stupit. How do ye know who ye’re talking to it might have been somebody worked in the pub, then they’d get him huckled in the name of christ it could even be a sodjer ye were putting the bite on. The way his luck was going he would lose his fucking legs man know what I’m talking about.

  So okay. So that was that. Ye just took it from here, ye pushed ahead.

  And a bit of practicality for christ sake man sober up, relax, it’s like a mental arithmetic problem; 2 times 2 equals 4.

  He felt like sitting down. Sharing a drink with somebody. Just telling them the score. Fucking hell man. No that he had ever liked The Blazer much. Some guys he knew drank there; at least they used to, a couple of the auld squad. But ye didnay really want to see them, no unless ye needed something. Even then ye had to be wary. Ye pay for everything in this life. Once upon a time

  but no now. Sammy was past
that. That was one thing man, the auld mental days, they were finished. Helen was wrong about that; totally.

  Still, ye could imagine it, sitting down with a frothy big pint, a packet of tobacco.

  Ah, fucking fairy tales. Mind you but getting blootered, it would be one way of making it home. Weans and drunks man know what I’m saying, the auld god fellow, the central authority, that’s who he looks after. Sometimes that was what the bevy was like but a magic carpet. Othertimes it wasnay.

  Okay, take yer time. Ye go left. Ye go left. Jesus christ! Come on. Okay: ye go left, ye just turn left. Sammy took a step forwards, his hand on the building, patting his way along till he reached a point he forgot what he was doing and he was just getting there christ he was used to that I mean he was used to walking long distances, skint and fucking starving, cold and fucking with naywhere to go man all that kind of deprivation shite. Fuck all new in this game.

  So think of a song. Nay songs. Nay fucking songs. This was it and that was that.

  Past tense.

  Ach it was all his own fault anyway.

  What was his own fault for christ sake there he went blaming himself for something that had fuck all to do with him it’s fucking typical. It wasnay his fault he was fucking blind! Ye kidding! Fuck sake man. Sammy had stopped walking. So he moved off again. He was being practical, trying no to think about it, 1 plus 1, ye just push ahead, ye move, ye just move; right; okay: okay. A toe in his left foot was nipping but that’s alright, that’s alright; it’s alright; keeping to the inside of the pavement – half a pace at a time, that was plenty; dragging the other foot along to parallel, resting quite a lot, building up the confidence; anybody watching would think he had bad angina maybe, recovering from a heart attack or something; he could mind once he had went walking with the auld grandfayther, many years ago, having to stop every 20 or 30 yards for a rest, so he could catch a breath poor bastard his lungs were dead but wouldnay lie down, these gurgling or fucking crackling noises all the time.

  He collided with somebody; it felt like a wee man; like he had gave him a real heavy dunt, but he didnay seem to fall. Sammy said, Sorry, but the guy never spoke. So he started talking about how he had lost his glasses. But silence. The wee guy must have got off his mark.

  He put his hand to the building, it was a shop window. Maybe by the time he got home he would be back seeing again. Fucking hell. These things are sent to try ye – life; life is sent to try ye.

  Gasping for a fucking smoke man. Maybe he could just head for Glancy’s Bar and tap some cunt for the taxi-fare. Ah fuck it, by the time he got to there he would be home, the time it took, he would be home.

  It’s a carry on but eh! ye go for a pint and ye wind up a blind bastard – the story of Sammy’s life, aye lucky as fuck.

  Excuse me!

  Sorry.

  Fucking hell man that felt like a woman’s tit he had put his hand on. The name of christ he would get fucking arrested!

  He kept going. A battler man that was what he was. One thing about the Sammy fellow, a fucking battler. If ye had asked him he would have telt ye: nay brains but he would aye battle like fuck.

  It’s true though he would have a go.

  If he passed a door and it was open he would fucking fall in. Never mind, somebody would catch him.

  Even the auld brainbox, it wasnay as empty as all that christ almighty he was actually no too bad at school. Before he got flung out! Ach he had never got flung out, that’s just crap.

  Jesus christ jesus christ.

  It was football; as a boy he had loved the game, football; he was a fanatic, a fanatic

  jesus christ

  He was but; hail, rain or snow, he was aye out kicking a ball. There again, there was a wee chance he might have went all the way. If he had landed lucky. The scouts had been up. Just didnay work out man know what I mean, ye try, ye just

  Fuck ye. Fuck ye!

  Where the hell was he? He had stopped walking. Nay wonder he had stopped walking cause he didnay fucking know where he was! Okay.

  But where the hell was he where the hell was he! he was down the road, that was where he was, and he couldnay get lost cause it wasnay possible, okay; it was a corner, the space, he was at a space and it was a corner, it was the next corner, it was the one down from The Blazer, so that was fine, it was okay, it wasnay a real corner – street, it wasnay a real street, a real junction – so that was fine if ye just slowed down, if there was a magic carpet which there wasnay so ye just stood there, okay, Sammy, he just stood there. He got his breath back. It was a straight road. He had come in a straight line and from here on it was that same line, cause that same line, it would take him to the block of flats, to the wee turnoff ower the bridge, eventually, that was where it would lead him. Even if he had the dough for a taxi the driver wouldnay want to take him, it was too close, he would just say, Get to fuck! That was what he would say, cause it was so close. Ye’re too close for a taxi, it’s just a five-minute walk; that was what the guy would say, so it was fine, he just had crossings to go, about three to the main junction, the big five-wayer; once across there it was plain sailing man plain sailing, so okay, batter on, just batter on. He stepped forwards from the corner, his two arms raised and moving from side to side, his right foot doing the feeling, tapping out the way, and he touched a thing, a pole, good, the edge of the pavement. It wasnay a real street this it was more like a lane and hardly any traffic went down it at all. He heard people passing. He could get help if he wanted, but he didnay need it; he would need it later, but no the now, it was best no trying for it the now; because

  because what. Because it was best no to, it was just best no to; he moved his right foot off the kerb, his left hand was still on the pole, he settled the heel of his left shoe down off the kerb but nudging against it, fuck sake man launch, launch, yerself forwards, okay, he moved his left foot forwards then his right, his left. There was somebody behind him. I’m just feeling dizzy, he said, I’m feeling dizzy. He had stopped. I’m feeling dizzy, he said.

  …

  Ye there? He cleared his throat, no, they werenay, whoever it was, they werenay there, unless they were saying fuck all. But in the name of christ man! Jesus. Wwhhh. The right foot, then the left and on again just the same, okay, straight, he was going straight dear god man christ almighty that’s okay that’s okay, it was, cause he was fine, right then left and the same again, dragging it, just dragging it, it was fine, ye saved yer help, ye didnay need it so ye saved it; he would need it later, no the now, just on, on, nudging his way, his foot just nudging it out cause he would have to get there, sooner or later, twenty steps or thirty and he had done about ten, maybe twelve; the traffic was there but it was away on the main drag and it wasnay here cause ye didnay get traffic coming this way it was a dead-end it wasnay a real street, it didnay go naywhere

  people again, boys, boys yapping away in loud voices, passing him by and he moved quicker to behind them till they were lost and a big heavy bus passing and their voices were away now and he kept going cause he was getting there man there wasnay long to go now, he was getting there, if only he could see, ye know, that was what he was thinking if he could just see, even just the bits where he was crossing streets and roads

  fine, he was onto the other pavement and up, he was up, that was him, easy, straightforward, no a problem, a big deal, it wasnay it was straightforward, okay, and steps to the building, the corner; and the traffic to his right. The traffic was to his right and that was how it should have been cause that was where the traffic was, it was the main drag it was on, the traffic and he was going in the right direction, it was good jesus christ it was good, his hand on the building and there ye go just on, taking it easy and no losing the head cause there was nay reason to lose the head it was just a straightforward patacake game ye go to the patacake games and that was that that was what ye did, ye’re blind, the patacake games it was fair enough man ye’re no gony run down the road, ye just have to take it easy and no fucking, no fucking


  okay. A smoke right enough a smoke would be good. Sammy stopped and started again cause it was best to keep going, instead of stopping every few yards, that was silly, just fucking stupit man know what I’m saying ye’re better just keeping going and see what happens cause ye get that wee rhythm going ye’re into yer stride and there’s fuck all gony do ye if ye just keep going, no too big a stride, but enough, just enough, to keep going and ye get yerself into something or other yer head just gets full of it it just gets full of it, full of that and nothing but the truth man that’s how it goes, that is the truth and it is nothing but the truth, nothing but the truth, ye feel a wee space and it’s only a doorway only a doorway and a wee bit in the dark and yer hands feeling fuck all for a couple of wee bits and then there, there it is there, the next wall, just after the doorway and now okay, thank fuck he had had a breakfast, the sodjers giving him a breakfast

  right, on ye go, a hearty hi yo silver

  Mind you they didnay always give ye a breakfast, just up to them, whether they give ye one or no, sometimes they dont, ye’re just hungry ye go hungry, so okay, that was the crack, ye does yer crime, ye does yer crime

  That was like a wee song:

  ye does yer crime ye does yer crime

  ye does yer crime ye does yer crime

  ye does yer crime ye does yer crime

  On christmas day in the morning, that was the tune. What was the fucking tune? christmas day in the morning. Sammy couldnay fucking mind man he couldnay mind, christmas day in the fucking morning. It had a tune but, definitely; what was it? Cause there definitely was one, it wasnay just a saying, a fucking poem man it wasnay just a poem, it was a song, ye sang it; so there had to be a tune. Fucking hell,

  ye hitch up the trousers

  ye puts the best foot forwards, the best foot forwards

  Okay, cutting a long story short here cause Sammy’s head was getting into a state and what was coming out wasnay always very good. The guy was fuckt I mean put it that way, he was fuckt, so there’s nay sense prolonging it. If ye’re wanting to play fair: alright? let it go, fucking let it go, just let it go, a wee bit of privacy, know what I’m talking about, ye give a guy a break, fuck sake, sometimes it’s best just accepting that.