Our Ladies, page 13
There was a pause. Am leaving the band. Am really sorry but it’s been. Ah know. I know. Sorry but you’ll be fine without me. No. No it’s nothing to do wi that solo … it’s just, ach, it hasn’t been as much fun for a while an, what do you mean? It’s no, nut, nut, nut, nut, nut, nut if ah don’t want to do it why should ah. Eh? It’s nothing to do with dedication. Am just no enjoying it.
You tell um lass, one of the old voices called out.
What? Nut. Nut. What do you mean sack them?
What’s he saying for God’s sake? Chell jumped up and down.
It’s Chell. Rachel MacDougall. You met her. She was at the High School when we played.
There was a long silence. Kylah stared at Chell.
Ah mean that’s awful, saying you should sack them. Christ ah phoned you cause … nut, cause they’re at school, ya arsehole. Nut. Look. Hold on. Kylah covered the mouthpiece wi her hand.
What’s he saying? Chell goes.
Aye what IS he saying? goes the barkeep who was leaning by the tap, stared.
He says, do ah want to get rid of the drummer an bass player?
You think of yourself girl, a behind voice went.
Look after number one, goes another.
But that’s really sneaky an he wants to know why ah done it when am down here, saying am a cowardy ben an that an. And he says that you’re a dirty tinker. Kylah stared at Chell.
Oh-oh, voice behind went.
Chell grabbed the phone and screamed into the mouthpiece, You fucking little short dick man.
That’s him telt! the behind voice goes.
Give it here, give it HERE.
Don’t break that phone! went the barkeep.
Kylah’d the phone back an was trying to goes, Nah, YOU look here. What? That has nothing to do with anything. What? That’s none of your business.
Cmere. The barkeep grabbed the phone offof Kylah.
You tell him, Chugg!
The boy’s oota order.
The barkeep goes down the phone, The lassie fucking telt you, she’s left yur band, now gie up the ghost quietly. Who am I? I’m her fucking new manager that’s who I am.
A substantial cheer went up round the pub.
Aye, record contracts, the lot and exactly who are you, fuckin Michael Barrymore or something? What have you done for this lassie, eh? What have you done for her … career? She’s been doon in this city, he cupped the receiver, How long you been down here?
Just the morn.
Shes doon in this city just the morn an she’s got a new manager an a record contract, think about that son, an dinnae give up the day job chavvy, he shoved out the receiver with disgust, like a salute, face turned away from it. Kylah took it and, canny-like, put it to her cheek. She didn’t say anything; you could hear voice, in the mouthpiece. You could see her absorbing the utterances.
Kylah’s eyes narrowed, she says, Ah can tell you this. There’s no point you making an issue of something like that, cause ah did it with them too.
Chell grit her teeth, beholden also, to knowledge, of Kylah’s handjobbing all: guitar/vocals, bass and, yup, drums too.
Kylah looked ahead. There was silence in the plastic mouthpiece. You could hear Kylah breathing then the little fizz sound, Ask them, she nipped back. The money? Ah got it here, eh? What record company! Ach, don’t be pathetic, she moved to slam the phone down, caught the barkeep’s eye and wi more gentleness returned the handpiece to the cradle.
The music had been interrupted again in the Pill Box. One of the older women from the same table Manda and Orla were beached at, had struggled on stage to Davey the DJ. The younger girl and boy at the table cross from Manda, were tugging at each other excited-like.
And there’s another announcement here folks, Davey was leaning over, nodding at the older woman. Aye, get up to that bar and drinks for Louise and Ali who’ve just decided … to get engaged too!
A huge cheer arose. Ali and Louise bounced up and snogged. Manda, one arm down, the hand fishing in her bag while she leaned over to yell in Orla’s lug, goes, Dangerous place, come in looking for a shag but you’re more likely to end up fucking married! Orla nodded, serious, as the sound system exploded with, We’re A Happy Family by The Ramones. Manda leaned forward between the snoggers, hung something on the boy’s shirt buttons. It was the little sign from Rest & Be Thankful. RESERVED.
Kylah burst out with the greeting.
Kylah! Cmon.
Oh. Poor lassie.
I shouldnie ah done that.
Ach. Away. That’s way it goes, lassie.
Here, here, says one in the brown jacket waving about a hankie.
Nah nah, yur okay there, warned Chell and leaned her mouth into the hair, down the side, Kylah’s face, Yur fucking up your make-up baby, she whisper-whispered.
Kylah nodded, snuffled.
It’s me usually does the crying Kylah, Chell had an arm round now.
Ah know. Ah know, Kylah wiped her snozzle on back her hand then goes, Crazy ah’ve grat an here’s you, here’s you wi your real daddy away lost an yur big sister married to yon looney and here’s me all hetupness bout bugger all, she tried to do a big smile, teeth so white cause her face was red, but she guffed out a big sob again.
Chell drew back a fraction’n hushed, Here, yur gonna set me off, she smiled, a bit.
… An Orla nearly died an ahm sat here like a big, bubbly baby.
Don’t worry Kylah, don’t worry, we’ll give them the money back.
Kylah’s voice came clearer, a bit louder, Y’know fine we’ll splash out the lot. She guttered a big sob again.
You could see Chell’s eyes starting to go now.
Oh, ahm sorry ah mentioned your dad, it just came into ma mind.
Ach no, it’s just. Is it the boys you are crying about?
Kylah almost shouted it out, Aye!
You’re no at fancying one are you?
Don’t really make me cry! Ah mean ah had it off wi them but, och, just to get it over wi. The way you just know fancyings are building up, an they were all over me, so’s ah thought, what boys are like, suck of ma tits an they’ll go back to fancying Courtney Love or that; yon Mazzy Star girl wi no voice.
Chell went, Aye well, least they were getting it from someone wi a good voice.
Aye, this is it, Kylah nodded, Ah mean ah never (she dropped to a whisper-whisper), never shagged them … it’s just. An here you could see she was as to about resuming wi bursting out at the greets.
Whaaat?
It’s just as a band.
What?
They’re so fucking shite. Ahm greeting cause ah feel sorry for them cause they’re so crap.
Oh.
What are we gonna do? Ah need to do ma make-up now.
The two girls looked at each other.
Chell says, Bestest find some place with decentish toilets, eh?
Then what; get up this Pill place; wonder where Fionnula’s got to, eh? Kylah rubbed her eyes lightly on back of her hand to check for make-up then pinched and tugged down the sleeve of her T-shirt and wi head leaned to one side, rubbed one her cheeks on it.
We go straight there?
Both girls looked each other in the face an says … same time: French Connection!
Think yon grot’s seeing enough or what?
He’s no that bad, staring right at you though, check the suit.
It’s fucking boufing man, who’s he think he is, fucking Bryan Ferry? Funny, ya aye see that, townies wi a fucking suit on; what a turnoff. Cannie see a lad’s arse in a suit, makes them look so old, it’d be like having to screw wi Mr Eldon or something.
Even ah wouldn’t have it off with Eldon, ahm no desperate as all that.
Christ he’s homing in on us, get the suit, says Manda, smiling into his face as he bore down.
Hi there!
Both the girls stared.
You’re no Jim Clark’s wee sister are you?
Orla an Manda looked at one other and puffed big haw, Haw, haws.
The guy kneeled down on his knees so the surrounding couldn’t hear what he was saying but just as he’d cooried and arrived at about-to-speak-position, Manda placed her foot gainst and shoved him over so’s he rolled onto his back then suddenly leapt up with a beamer. The girls’ cheeks all blew out as they gigglestifled.
Fucksake dame, what fucking planet are you from? He brushed away at the arms of the weird suit even though it seemed, as you looked close, to be covered in wee ousles an dust balls, Ah just wanted to ask if you’ve been through the back?
Manda looked him up and down and gave a hefty sneer, Ah don’t really think too much of your chat-up patter.
Guy seemed more confident now and he leaned wi two hands out flat on the table, goes, Most of the lads round here, cause yous don’t seem to be from these parts, most of the boys would just say that they’d like to feel your belly-buttons from the inside. Am just being polite. He shrugged.
Manda looked over at Orla, Least that’s original.
Aye. Orla barely moved her lips.
Celebrating? He nodded at the empty bottle Dubious.
We will be, when you leave us alone.
He deftly soldiered on, revolving round to survey the afternoon pandemonium that surrounded them, Well if yous want to see me in action, I’m round at the Crash, he sniffed, pulled at his cuff, dipped his eyebrows and goes, Versace. He strolled off, up the bar.
What a curséd nuisance, Manda raised her eyebrows at Orla, took another sip of the half-gone cider.
What’s the Crash?
Fuck alone knows.
Music was shut off for a moment and soon a cheer was going up, way over to the side, another engagement had been announced.
Reckon ah should make a move on chopper man fore someone gets engaged to him?
Yes. Come check out the toilet?
Aye.
What if we lose these seats?
Excuse me, will you keep these seats for us? goes Manda, picking up her sportsbag.
Eh, oh aye, the guy Manda had stuck the sign to broke off from whisper-whispering in yon lassie’s lug. The RESERVED sign was sat in front him by his pint, Leave yur bags if you want.
Nah, ta but we need them.
Manda and Orla were walked round the corner, passed where the twenty-first group was, a few of the younger folk goggled Manda and Orla’s gear. As Manda walked beyond the two cigarette machines toward toilets, she squinted ahead, mortal as she was. She stopped. Orla did too.
The guy in the suit, been trying chat them up was upside down, stuck to the wall ahead, about six feet up. His face looked all fatter what with the must’ve been rushed blood downwards, his legs a bit apart. The bottoms of his trouser legs, falled down so’s could see his hairy legs. He smiled, gave dainty wee wave.
They entered the police station and she went first up the counter. The posters were different from outside the station in High Street of the Port, where they were all about importance of returning rockets if they got washed up astray from the firing range, or about dangers of beached phosphorus bombs, or there was one of the torn-to-bits lamb, telling townies to keep their mutts on a leash.
We need some assistance, Chell goes.
Yes.
Kylah leaned gainst the counter beside her.
We need a lift.
A lift?
Aye. We’re pretty exhausted. See we’re down here at St Columba Choirs final.
Yes.
An we’ve … become separated from our … from other members of the choir.
I see.
We were to meet them somewhere and we can’t find the place. We’ve been tramping round for just ages.
I see. Well where is it you’ve to meet them?
It’s near somewhere, Kylah blurted out.
Near somewhere?
It’s near somewhere we were told not to go near so’s we’re hoping you could, maybe get one of your cars to take us near to, the place.
I’m not quite with you here.
Well it’s a place called the Pill Box.
The Pig straightened up, I see. And you’re not to meet IN there but near to there?
That’s right.
Constable, Kylah blabbered out.
Mmmm. I’m a sergeant actually, he pointed to shapes on his jacket arm.
Kylah went beetroot with a big brasser of embarrassedness.
Well firstly the place you’re talking about is just around the corner, take a right at the traffic lights here then a left at the next set, follow the main street there up across one, two sets traffic lights, past the Somerfield supermarket and the place you’re looking for is on your left just before the BP petrol station.
That sounds a long way, Chell grimaced.
Yes, Kylah nodded, serious-like.
It’s just, wi the shopping an that.
The Pig rolled forwarders a wee bitty on his shoes, so’s he could make the peer down to the girls’ feet where there were four French Connection carrier bags.
Mmmm, it’s only about four hundred yards.
How far’s that? Kylah turned to Chell, What’s that in metres?
It’s just, these shoes, Chell canted her leg at one knee so’s the brown boot showed. They hurt sergeant, hers too, Chell added.
Aye.
The Pig leaned down on the counter, Did that hurt? he nodded at the eyebrow ring.
No as much as the other one.
What did the sign outside here say?
Police.
Aye. And how do you spell that?
P.o.l.Ice.
Mmmm. P.o.l.Ice. not T.a.axe Eee.
You mean yous are no going to give us a lift?
No. I’ve told you where the place is.
A mean, that’s just awful. We might get attacked.
Miss. It’s three thirty in the afternoon.
Aye. But look at the clothes we’re wearing.
Miss. The clothes you are wearing are not the concern of the police.
Well I think that’s terrible, went Chell, picking up her bags.
By the way, that bar is over twenty-ones only.
The girls kept heading for the door.
And good luck in the competition, he wasn’t looking up anymore.
Outside the door swung shut.
You were amazing, you’re just mental having guts to just go in there, Kylah was smiling.
What a fucking townie tight arse he was, ah used to get lifts in fro the Tulloch Ferry bobby all the time, here look, something from home; bet they’d call us a taxi from there, it’ll be all decent choochters an maybe get a drink as well, ahm fucking parched for an apple Hooch or something.
With their French Connection bags hanging by their bare legs, the two girls crossed the road towards the obscuring glass of the front door to the Highland Club.
Another man in one of the over-large suits began to run as drum rolls hissed on the wee sound-system, he hit the small, square trampoline and fairly leapt into the air, twisting through it, so’s he hit the wall more or less in the inverted position and stuck there his weight pulling, pulling on the suit but the velcro wall with its over-size barbs holding him pretty well, other men, including the chatter-upper, stood supping pints lager, yattering the finer points of technique.
Manda shook head a final time as her and Orla stepped into the toilet.
A Bloody Mary Theory in Tequila Heaven
Kay?
Kay turned round and it’s no often you’ve seen her, up on bar stools, legs swingin from short skirt wi what looked like an alcoholy drink an slice lemon in front her.
Fionnula. She more moved the lip shapes of that name than actually spoke it. It was just too unreasonable that Fionnula could be stood there wearing a terribly short skirt in this sunken afternoon bar, so dark, only light source seemed rising glow from the ground level fridge, behind the bar, caps of beer bottles just visible an the barmaid sat on a stool reading the Evening News. Kay there, in a strange end-of-the-bar position, further into the darknesses, away from the eating area where two elderly folk were at a table wi a candle on, Kay’s chosen position seeming she wanted no talk wi the barmaid.
Ah just saw you there, Fionnula was walking down the length of the bar, Kay was looked down at her skirt, You changed too!? Fionnula smiled, took her cigarette packet out the breast pocket of her shirt, the lighter was inside the half-smoked packet. She lit up, blowing smoke away from Kay, put the packet back and tugged at her fallen sleeve.
Yes, Kay nodded.
Done your rehearsal?
Where are the others; you actually on your own? Kay sorta gleered round Fionnula.
Ach, shopping an that, meeting at a pub where’s live music, ah just went for a wee donner on ma own. Where’s Ana-Bessie?
Jenners.
What’s that?
Best shop in town.
Oh. Right. How’d rehearsal go then?
Yes? The barmaid appeared out of shadow, behind the pillar, the newspaper, centre pages folded between two of her fingers, giving her an impatient stance.
Fionnula stared at her.
Are you going to drink something? Kay was looked at her.
What’s that?
Gin and tonic, a stiff one.
What flavour Hoochs you got?
We don’t have Hooch.
You got Sambuca?
Yes.
I’ll one of those then.
This is what Dad drinks.
Oh.
He took me here for lunch when we were down last. They do good seafood here. Fresh mussels. Ever had oysters?
Nut, eh, can ah have it in one of those wee glasses no ice thanks, Fionnula leaned over the bar, one lower leg canted up at the knee to the horizontal.
In a shot glass?
Aye, one of they. Aye. Thanks, Fionnula sorta twisted, to get at the zipper, back of her shoulder bag an took out her purse. Cannily, she had a wee wad one pound notes from the purse. Much is that? When the barmaid says, Fionnula put down a pound note then the exact in change, Look, as the barmaid put the little glass in front. Fionnula was holding out a new pound note, stretched between the forefinger an thumb of each hand, she says, JL McAdam. On back of the stiff pound note, right enough, was a profile of the great surveyor wi some sorta geometric pattern under him.
