Dirt Road Read online

  Well that’s all it is.

  Some habits are good son but some arent. The bad ones are there to be broken. Somebody gives ye a sandwich ye dont open it up to see what’s inside. Know what I mean? It’s actually bad manners. Think about it.

  Murdo sniffed. Dad resumed reading. Murdo lifted the sandwich and the coffee, about to return to his spot in the garden. He hesitated then sat down at the patio table. He didnt want Dad thinking he was huffy. He bit into the bread. He wasnt even hungry but Aunt Maureen made the sandwiches especially. He had to eat one. Anyway, better for cleanliness to eat at the table. That would be Dad. If ye dropped crumbs at a table ye could wipe them up whereas in the garden, if ye dropped them on the grass ye didnt see them again.

  Although birds came to peck. That was good if ye fed the birds. But what about the crumbs that landed on the earth? causing wee tremors. Insects would feel it. As soon as the food landed that would be them. The earth tremors would tell them. Hundreds of insects arriving from miles around; there they were, heads poking out the soil: snap snap snap. If they missed the grub they ate one another. Insects didnt worry. Did they even know who was who? That’s my granny I better not eat her. Or if it was a lower species of insect, they would eat them. Insects fed off one another.

  Dad had finished his sandwich and lowered his book onto the table. He lifted the coffee. I take it ye’re not missing school!

  Ha ha.

  Dad was smiling.

  I never want to go back. I dont Dad. I really dont.

  Aye well there’s things we have to do in life Murdo, we dont always want to do them.

  Not school though.

  School. Work. You go to school I go to work.

  I want to go to work.

  Dad sighed.

  I do. I want to go.

  Ye will soon enough.

  Aye but Dad I really want to, really. I do.

  So ye keep telling me.

  Because it’s true.

  Dad shifted on his chair, raised the book and gazed at it for several seconds, then lowered it. Where’s all this come from? he said. Ye’ve only got a few months to go and that’s you.

  Dad

  Less than a year.

  Murdo groaned.

  One year.

  Dad it’ll no work like I mean it wont.

  What ye talking about?

  Me at school Dad it’s not working, it’s hopeless.

  Oh God.

  It’s me. I’m just like – I’m hopeless.

  Of course ye’re not hopeless. Ye’re not hopeless at all.

  I am.

  Ye’re not. What ye talking about?

  Well what I mean I’m not able to do it. I hate it. I really hate it and I just – I cant do it. I wish I could but I cant.

  Ye’re bright enough.

  Dad

  Ye’re only repeating this year because how things have been at home. It’s nothing to do with being stupid or hopeless or some such nonsense, it’s because of what’s happened, it’s because of like just…the past year and Mum being ill Murdo. Just stick in. Stick in. Ye’ll catch up.

  I wont Dad.

  Ye will. Then next year it’s college.

  Aw Dad.

  Ye’re only repeating this one year. That’s all.

  Dad

  Naw. No more.

  Dad I’m only saying

  Dad groaned. He looked at Murdo. Murdo shrugged. He lifted the remains of the sandwich and stood, shifting back the chair. He didnt feel like the coffee but took it anyway.

  Dad said, Watch ye dont burn. It’s into the mid eighties.

  Murdo nodded, returned to his spot on the grass. Dad glanced across but Murdo pretended not to notice, lifted the cowboy book and lay down on the towel. He stretched out on his front, the sun on his back.

  He turned to his page in the book. It was good having an actual ordinary book and ye just marked a page and whatever. Quite an interesting story too. But he wanted back down the basement. Except if he went it was being huffy. It wouldnt occur to Dad there was a reason, like music, thinking about music. Okay if he had a headset or something but when ye had nothing, jeesoh. Really it was playing, he needed to play. He really did and he couldnt. He wanted to and he couldnt.

  That was Dad: Ye cannay bring the accordeon.

  How come! How come he couldnt? How come Dad didnt let him? What was the big problem? It was just stupid. It wasnt like Dad had to carry it. God, just bloody hopeless. He got up from the grass and left the book on the towel, strolled past the patio and through into the dining area; whatever Dad would think, who cares, he would think something.

  *

  Uncle John returned from work near 6.30 p.m. Dad had gone to his room a while ago. Murdo was helping Aunt Maureen lay the dining table. Back home he cooked most of the weekday meals. Sausages a lot of the time or beef mince; potatoes and peas, beans. Dad did it Friday nights and the weekends. Friday night was fish and chips Dad bought out the chip shop. Most meals they ate on their laps watching television. Here Aunt Maureen laid out the dining table. Different food in bowls so ye could help yerself; meat and vegetables, piles of potatoes. If ye wanted more ye could get it and it wasnt a fuss. If ye wanted bread ye could take that too. Different from the bread back home but better tasting than the stuff from Sarah’s shop.

  During the meal Aunt Maureen flitted between the dining table and kitchen but took part in the conversation. She was a brilliant cook. She acted like she wasnt but she was. She called it home cooking but what else would it be? Ye lived in a home and ye had the cooking so it was home cooking; food ye could eat and just relax.

  Dad and Uncle John were drinking wine; Aunt Maureen and Murdo had orange juice and water. Dad wouldnt have minded if he had asked for a glass. A wee one would have been fine but just now he was more thirsty than anything. Uncle John was talking about the early days and how life was okay around here even when things werent so elsewhere. Work hard live good. It’s how it’s been since I got here all them years ago. How long mother?

  Thirty-eight years, replied Aunt Maureen. I met you thirty-seven; we been married thirty-six.

  She’s the brains in this family!

  People got two jobs, sometimes three. Aunt Maureen pointed at Uncle John. He always had two.

  Uncle John shrugged. It’s the work deal round here.

  Not always it aint.

  Well most always.

  The boys were little you had three.

  Is that not a lot? asked Murdo.

  Tell him that, said Aunt Maureen.

  Uncle John was aware of Dad looking too. Well sure three jobs, if that’s what it takes. Nobody comes in forcing ye; ye want to work ye work. Bop till ye drop Tommy boy ye just get on with it.

  Dad smiled. Uncle John paused, about to add something, changed his mind and sipped from his glass of wine. He glanced at Aunt Maureen. I wouldnt have called that one a job now if you’re talking the bread delivery truck.

  So what would you call it mister, huh? You drove all night through. Me and the boys never saw you.

  One nightshift! That’s the job she’s talking about, one nightshift.

  Every Saturday night Sunday morning. Twelve hours straight you worked, so dont tell me.

  Uncle John grinned, jerked his thumb in Aunt Maureen’s direction.

  Oh yes now you gotta make fun of it; seven days out working.

  It was only for a year or two. Uncle John winked at Murdo. Young family son, your Dad knows what I’m talking about.

  Three jobs, said Aunt Maureen, we hardly saw him.

  Uncle John reached for his wine and gestured with it to Dad. Dad raised his own glass in reply, and they clinked them. Uncle John looked to Murdo: Sláinte mhath son.

  Sláinte mhath, said Murdo.

  They clinked glasses. Aunt Maureen joined them. Dad raised his glass again, and gestured to Murdo to raise his: they held them aloft. Dad said to Uncle John and Aunt Maureen: This is just to you two, from me and Murdo, thanking ye both for having us here
.

  Definitely, said Murdo.

  Och away and behave yerself! grunted Uncle John.

  Naw, said Dad.

  It’s a real pleasure for us, said Aunt Maureen.

  Dad was looking embarrassed. He noticed Murdo watching him and smiled. This was the most relaxed Murdo had seen him for ages. Murdo felt it himself. Here ye were free to relax. Back home ye werent. Back home was the house and everything in it. Everything. Every last thing. Everywhere ye looked it was Mum not being there and ye could not get away from that. Never. How could ye? Never ever.

  Dad was looking at him. Murdo raised his head.

  Uncle John and Aunt Maureen were in the middle of a conversation. Something about Uncle John not getting the time off. No need to raise that now, he said.

  Yes there is. Aunt Maureen turned to Dad. He walked into that office Tommy, he confronted them. Huh! That is what he did. He let them know what he thought. After twenty-two years! Huh! They wouldnt give no proper time off! His family from Scotland! No now dont you tell me! said Aunt Maureen to Uncle John. Mister, you are hurting!

  I’m not.

  You are hurting.

  Bloody hurting, I’m not.

  Oh now!

  Sorry, but I’m not.

  Aunt Maureen shook her head. Them boys coming here and you not being around…!

  I will be in the evenings.

  They dont make it easier for you is what I am saying. Lord knows they could help it along, but they dont, no sir.

  Why not? asked Murdo.

  Why not huh? That is a fine question son. You say it to him and he might listen. I say it and I am a critical woman.

  Uncle John winked at Murdo. Aunt Maureen stared at him. Finally he said: Three times I went into that office. Three times. They still didnt give it; said they needed more notice.

  More notice huh!

  Because it’s a busy time.

  In there’s always a busy time.

  I’m just saying what they told me.

  The favours you’ve done them!

  Eventually Dad said, It’s being here that’s important. I’m not interested in rushing around places. It’s having the break; relaxing. Sitting in the sun. We dont get any sun, where we come from!

  It’s true, said Murdo.

  So dont go worrying about us. I dont need to go any place except here where I am. I’m here and it’s great.

  Uncle John nodded. We’ll see, he said, we’ll see. He smiled suddenly. Ever hear of the Cumberland Gap?

  Yeah, said Dad.

  They wrote a song about it, said Aunt Maureen.

  Uncle John winked. Her family!

  Now it aint my family mister but I know what you’re thinking!

  The conversation continued on family matters; old people from way back. Dad knew some of their names. Back home he hardly ever spoke about his family so it was interesting to hear. Murdo knew much more about Mum’s side because she used to talk but Dad hardly ever.

  They helped clear the table, passing the things to Aunt Maureen who stayed behind the kitchen counter, emptying bowls and arranging leftover food inside the fridge. She piled the crockery and cutlery into a dishwasher. Dad made a joke about back home him being the dishwasher.

  They moved out to the patio before it got dark. Uncle John had returned into the house and came back carrying a tray with two beers, two tumblers of whisky and a jug of water. Before long Murdo’s arms were itchy; him and Dad both. Dad was scratching his head too. Mosquitoes. They were here first, said Uncle John, them and the Cherokee Indians.

  Dusk’s a bad time, said Aunt Maureen, you got to cover up your skin. Bare arms are no good.

  Uncle John shared out the drinks with Dad. You want some orange juice? he asked Aunt Maureen.

  No we dont, she said and lifted her teacup, winking at Murdo.

  Does he drink a beer? Uncle John asked Dad.

  Dad said nothing. Murdo answered, I’m happy with orange juice.

  Good for you, said Uncle John.

  He’s a boy, said Aunt Maureen, you’re forgetting that.

  Well I’m not forgetting it. Uncle John pushed a beer to Dad. Trouble with this place, he said, ye need a car. You should’ve brought yer licence Tommy! Then ye could get out and about.

  Dad shrugged.

  What about buses? said Murdo. Is there no buses?

  Uncle John smiled. If there are son nobody knows!

  So do people just walk?

  They do that slow running kind of thing, said Aunt Maureen.

  Power walking, said Uncle John.

  Not power walking mister that’s fast walking.

  Jogging.

  Aint jogging. I dont know what you call it. I see them doing it at the mall. Round and round they go. They dont buy nothing, they go there for the walk. They all got partners.

  Partners? said Murdo.

  Yes sir. They go in two’s. Three’s a crowd son that’s the old saying. Aunt Maureen chuckled. My Lord!

  Uncle John laughed. Dad was smiling. Uncle John raised his glass but instead of sipping the whisky he stared at Dad: Why didnt ye all come those years ago, when ye had the papers and everything? Uncle John waited a moment. It was your father.

  You talking about when I was a boy?

  Yeah. Your mother would have come. It was him made that decision. She didnt get the chance. Uncle John sighed. I know she would have come Tommy. You know why I know that? Because she told me. Uncle John sat back in his chair.

  Aunt Maureen said to Murdo, Your mother was a lovely person.

  His grandmother, said Dad. She was Murdo’s grandmother Aunt Maureen. She was my mother.

  Oh of course she was Tommy I am so sorry! Yes and she was a fine lady. She took us to church. That was the parish church and it was Scottish Presbyterian right there in Glasgow.

  Well where else would it be? chuckled Uncle John.

  She was good fun, said Murdo. I remember her.

  Dad glanced at him. You were only a child.

  Yes but I remember her.

  Do ye?

  Yes Dad, really. She made me laugh.

  Aunt Maureen was quiet a moment. That is a beautiful thing to say. I hope somebody says it about me.

  Och of course they will, said Uncle John.

  She’s in a better place now. Aunt Maureen reached to Dad to hold his hand, and she stroked the back of it. Like your own sweet girl, the good Lord knows, she’s walking with Jesus.

  Dad hardly moved, except his shoulders a little. Uncle John swallowed a mouthful of beer.

  She is, replied Aunt Maureen.

  Uncle John smiled when Murdo glanced at him. When Aunt Maureen said “girl” she wasnt meaning Eilidh it was Mum, Mum was Dad’s girl, his girlfriend, his wife. The one “walking with Jesus” was Dad’s mum, Murdo’s granny.

  Murdo hadnt thought of it before, just how close they were, Dad and Uncle John, and Aunt Maureen.

  Uncle John patted Murdo on the side of the shoulder. You’ve had hard knocks Murdo boy, that’s what ye get in families. So you got to stick together. Folks get hit by things, tragedies and whatnot, they stick together.

  Aunt Maureen peered at Murdo. Oh now he is like his mother?

  You talking his mother or Tommy’s?

  Both, she said.

  Uncle John laughed and she did too but it was how Dad laughed! That was the real amazing thing. Dad just burst out with it like a real actual laugh! The three of them laughing away. Murdo laughed seeing them. Uncle John went off talking about some old guy, a distant cousin. Alabama in the old days. Kentucky too, where Aunt Maureen came from. Then a bird landed on the grass a little way down. It walked about. Not hopping, walking. It was weird-looking, with a long tail and a bluish purple colour. Uncle John was saying about another of the old relations, Uncle Donald, who married a woman from Knoxville called Molly.

  Related to the Mulhearns, said Aunt Maureen, their daughter married a Gillespie and moved to Arizona.

  He was a character, said Uncle John.
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br />   He was a mean nasty old man. That’s why his family left; soon as they were old enough.

  He had a hard life.

  Huh! Aunt Maureen shook her head.

  He did.

  Dont go excusing him now you know how he was to that poor woman.

  Yeah and I’m not excusing him. Uncle John continued on about Uncle Donald and how he was and Aunt Maureen too, who knew the old woman involved. Dad was listening, and seemed to know the people or maybe had heard of them or something and was enjoying it in that relaxed way Murdo hadnt seen for a long while.

  That bird was still there, pecking about in the grass. It had a strange face. At the same time ye could see how the face of a bird can be like the face of a human. There was a famous painting of a man with the head of a bird. This one had bright eyes squinting about. Squinty and sharp equals mean and nasty. Maybe it was a human thousands of years ago. Some believed the spirit of a dead person flitted into an animal, a bird or a fish. Or an insect. Some Indian chiefs wore headdresses made of feathers. Uncle John was talking again. Murdo got up from the chair, attracting Dad’s attention to point towards the house. Dad would know he meant the bathroom. But when he exited the bathroom he went downstairs to the basement; he just needed a break.

  The basement was the best space possible. Okay it had no air conditioning but so what? The privacy and just like how it was yer own place; ye couldnt beat it. Although the light was so so dim. Heavy shadows, ye wondered about spiders’ webs. That was the trouble being low down; things could crawl onto the mattress. Uncle John had said about cockroaches and how not having air conditioning was a good thing, otherwise they would have been worse. Murdo thought maybe he was kidding but Aunt Maureen said how insects needed moisture and dampness, same for mosquitoes. Dont put ponds in yer garden. Unless ye want mosquitoes. Mosquitoes bring the birds. Ye can shoot a bird. Makes a stew.

  *

  Next morning he stayed longer in bed. He was awake then back asleep. People said about jet lag so maybe it was that. He needed a shower but was starving. Dad was in the garden when he came upstairs; Aunt Maureen sipping coffee at the kitchen counter. Murdo moved about getting his breakfast. A hot day was forecast. Murdo hoped there was a beach nearby but there wasnt. Up country was a big valley where people went with lakes for swimming and water sports. Uncle John planned on taking them the weekend after next. This coming Saturday he had something else planned if things went right at work and no emergency call-outs.