Our Ladies, page 23
As for you Capricorn, ah don’t much believe you so’s you can try another night.
Fuck you, goes Kylah an walked away. She shouted Fionnula n Kay, Yous go on in, have a laugh an come round Barrels fore two okay? Cmon Orla.
Manda was still stood afore him.
You can get in. Cheer up. You’re in the best place in town.
Manda gave the look of relief. It was major social humiliation to no get past the bouncer but once in, gave him look of deaths an walked on.
Fuckin wanker, goes Manda as they walked down the fairylight-lit corridor to the cloaky. They could hear the beat so slow sets hadny started.
He was such a fucking … arse, goes Kay, standing beside Fionnula.
Fionnula and Manda gave in their bags an took the tickets.
Cause Kay was using swear words, Manda looked at her an gave Kay an open sneer.
They walked on an Manda blethers, Right then, where are these fortunate sailors, eh, fortunate to meet you an me Fionnula, eh?
They went through that door wi the fire-glass, into the pink then blue flashes an novas of the bar an dance floor but juss through it, there was a noticeboard, one of they wi the horizontal grooves you stick little white letters into:
Ah fuck, went Manda an she rushed fwd, hopped up the deadly two steps at end of the bar, from where you survey the still-winter dancefloor and its rich pickings.
Three things happened simultaneously: Manda’s big sister, Catriona, across the silver of the reflecting floorboards, lifted a hand to wave from amongst The Hairdressers. Over the furthest corner of the Mantrap, where two young men were sitting at different tables wi half-gone lager pints an out-folded Daily Records afront them, a kick-fight broke out. Behind Manda, three marshals fro the car ferry pier, tore open the front of their reflective jackets. The velcro fixers made rips loud enough to hear above DJ’s Twenty’s fodder. The DJ so-called, account of his guarantee never to play any record that hadn’t been in the top twenty. He was padlocked, a bit above the dancefloor in a cage of barbed wire, to protect him from being carried out and thrown off the pier on Saturday nights as happened on his first engagement. A small key to the padlock, painted red, hung round his neck, in case of a fire.
The marshals lowered their jackets onto stools an gently sat before their newly blistering lager pints. They never bothered to turn, look the boys who had sat back down after throwing a few wild punches an were now just shouting at each other.
There were four people on the dancefloor. About fifteen local men along the bar.
Name of fuck, Manda held out her arms, let them slap back gainst her in despair. Look at it!
Michelle came trottin down the stair.
Fionnula was staring over at Catriona. Fionnula looked at Kay, lifted her forehead an elongated her cheeks in a forced smile.
It’s fucking shite, so much for sailors, he meant aa those old moaners of the fishing boats. Michelle shrugged. Where’s the others?
Never got in.
Past that twat-fuck. You fucked off quick enough, goes Manda.
Noways was ah getting knocked back. Next time am out I’ll be trying to sneak in a pram past him.
What do you want to drink? goes Kay.
Save yur money on me thanks Kay, all ah can have’s a glass water, goes Michelle.
Lemon Hooch, goes Manda.
Ah’ll help, goes Fionnula an stepped over with her. Manda watched them go.
Before Kay even got to the bar a boy walked along the railings an leaned to her ear, Kay shook her head an the boy walked away, to the toilets, try and pretend he’d been going that way anyways.
See that! MacKay boy just asked Kay to dance.
Bastard never asked one us.
Awful pale the day but she looks great tho eh?
Who?
Kay Clarke. Ah never knew she was hanging round wi yous.
She’s no.
You don’t like her, eh? See yur sister over there.
Aye.
There was a long bit of not talkingness. You Sexy Thing was started playing.
Michelle coughed an went, Where the others?
Barrels. Might as well juss go round, this is crap. Manda, who’d been leaned on the railings, turned an looked down the bar. Another boy had come up, leaned between Fionnula an Kay, touched Kay’s shoulder an says something: Kay smiled so’s her teeth shows, an says something back. The guy talked a little more an went down the bar where he was sat with another guy. Manda says, Fucking hell, they’re sniffin Kay.
Aye, goes Michelle, Know how it is in here. Nothing like a new face on the mental scene to raise the sleepy cocks.
Who’s that again? goes Manda.
What, Scobie Macintosh?
Nah, no him, that guy far end on his own. Cute. See him about.
He’s spoken for. Bit of a quiet case, he lives wi yon Morvern from the Superstore, used to live up the Scheme.
Oh right he’s the guy; that’s a bonny bonny lassie.
Kay an Fionnula came back over from the bar.
You’re doin okay. Ta, goes Manda, taking the Hooch.
Kay smiled an shrugged, sipped from a clear half pint.
No into Scobie Doo? It’ll be slow sets soon. Ya gotta have someone snog for slow sets, Michelle looked round then at Kay’s drink, You on the water too, Kay?
Mmmm.
What’re you drinkin? Manda nodded, aggressive at the glass.
Malibu an coke, Fionnula whispered, almost inaudible.
Manda slipped her Hooch bottle in the wee round holes along the wood top of the railings, If ah ask Scobie Doo to dance, will you ask his mate?
Aye, sure, goes Michelle, But he won’t slow dance an snog me when the sets come on; he knows fine ahm pregnant.
Depends how many pints he’s had. See yas.
Manda and Michelle walked along the bar then went down on the dancefloor wi Scobie Doo an mate in tow.
I’m really fed up wi all this, goes Fionnula. You no going over, talk to Catriona?
Kay just laughed, took a swig of the water.
What? Fionnula took out a cigarette an offered one.
No thanks.
On the water an no cigarettes. Haven’t made any big decisions, have you?
No.
What are you thinking?
Looking at those two, I’m wondering who’s worse off, Michelle pregnant or Manda not pregnant?
Manda’s got other problems too, you can’t be too hard on her though she can be a pain.
You’ll just say I’m just snob but, this is so small town, isn’t it?
Aye.
Like Catriona just isn’t even going to come over and say hello. And do you know why?
Why? goes Fionnula.
Cause she’s scared. It’s not that she doesn’t like me. I know she likes me a lot and she’s really not shy about things we’ve done to each other. She’s scared of this damned little town. If we were in the city she could come over and hug and no one would be gossiping. And it wouldn’t be such a big deal about what’s happening to me. And it wouldn’t be a big deal for you. You know. What you were saying today.
Ah know what you mean. Fionnula nodded. Sometimes it makes ya want to do something to fuck it all up. All the fuckin wee lies an hypocritical folk.
Some of those lies are not so wee.
Kay an Fionnula looked at each other. If I have an abortion I’ll have to leave. I’d be thrown out. Either way I can’t lie about what’s happened, Kay shrugged.
You won’t tell them everything?
Suppose some things are irrelevant.
Don’t fuck up your university, Kay. You’re brainy. I’ve always been jealous of you, just too much a big boots to admit it. You’ve got enough problems. You need the support of your parents, no matter what happens. I’ve got nothing. I can take ma clothes and leave this town.
And end up what? homeless on those streets today, sucking cocks for the price of a Big Mac.
There’s homeless folk here, says Fionnula.
I know.
It’s just, cause there’s still dregs of a sorta community feel, homeless are sleepin on folk’s floors, hid away or in leaky caravans. Like ma cousin Tommy; he’s a goodlooking boy. He’s got this caravan down the Borders, works the roads an stuff then he comes up here an does the surplus at the Alginate and sleeps in the front room wi his dog. Its 1996 an this country can’t give its people a roof over their heads. It’s funny, isn’t it! How in smaller towns, folk won’t allow other folk to lie on the streets but it’s okay in a city. So there is good stuff about bein stuck in a glory hole like this. But cause folk are kinder, all gets swept under the carpet and politician folk can ignore it cause no one’ll fight it. They say there’s goan be changes in this country. Well I think the only thing changes you in this life is the people ya talk with, the people you sleep with, people you work with. Every other bastard is either lying through his teeth or trying to sell ya something. It’s only other people that change your life.
Just then the lights sunk an a deep blue stained the smoked air round them as the slow sets began. Below on the dancefloor the pale faces of the tall boys fell on the upturned lips of Michelle and Manda.
There’s no fuckin fish boxes or nothing, goes Kylah, slowly moving her lit lighter from left to right an back again, then a gust battered it out.
Kylah, Chell and Orla were nowhere near Barrels. They were round back of the Mantrap, below the Ladies Toilet where the wee open window was. The rear of the Mantrap had an extention wi no ground floor windows. The corner of it was right angles to the Lynn, the subterranean river that flowed under most of the town, from where it went under, front the Superstore, to where it emerged in the little swan-marauded estuary, to rear of the night club. It was test of high school boys guts, at night, to splash up the tunnel fro the sea-end at low tide an no poofy torches, emerge soaked an slime-wrapped, climb out into the Superstore carpark an go for celebration pints in the Politician. The only bar that would have them.
In winter gales, even though the small waterbreak onto the shore wasny angled on incoming seas, breakers severed on the wall then their tops smashed gainst back of the Mantrap extension. Burst waves would chuck black seaweed bunches as high as where they hung from the rone pipes. Once a wooden fish box went through the first floor window and Sgt MacPherson, who owned the Mantrap, posted it to Grimsby wi a bill and invoice. In the hurricane an orange, calor gas cylinder was found up on the roof.
Kylah an Chell looked at each other.
Orla goes, Less we draw lots, odd one has to give the bunks up to the other two but she cannie get in.
Ach, must be a way, goes Chell. She strolled down, close the shore where a bit of a breeze was getting up an the tiny stars were faintly going. Then she saw it, Hoi!
Orla n Kylah walked over.
Yer jokin ah hope.
Please yourselves. Snogging sailors or not. That’s the choice. Slow sets’ll be started soon enough.
We need gloves or something, more of Michelle’s condoms!
No ways, it’ll be all dry wi this weather.
Chell jumped down an stepped over, crunchin shingle. A huge mountain of seaweed the county digger had dumped there after clearing the shore. Chell shoved both hands in an tugged out a double handful clutch, Cmon, some posh folk eat this.
Aye, that’s fuckin posh folk.
I’ll make a heap here, yous two gather in an pile it up under the window.
The seaweed was dry, powdering dusty stuff bashing offof it as Chell tore out huge, puffy chunks that smelled real bad. It was raising such dust, Chell would take a few backwards steps, throw the weed up onto raised level of ground an move round to escape the clouds. In twenty minutes or so they had stripped all crusted, outer lining an the weed was getting more damp an rubbery deeper inwards. Little trickles of water were coming off the hangin ends, drapplin cold drips cross her bare legs an when she lifted a hand to move hair away from her face, Chell’s fingers came too near her lips an she tasted the sea water sealed within those weeds; so there she was, dwarfed by this, in the dark, hoikin lumps out it an she got to thinkin about the creepy crawlies might be in that pile rotted weed, not just spiders but others, those leaping, trilobitey things when you coup a stone on a salt seashore, or little baby crabs, so young their top shell’s still transparent an you can see all inside things. All manner of sea beasts might be trapped in the seaweed-skimmed shore debris, an now the stars were almost gone above Chell, an the chopped moon was letting light fall out less often, an she could hear the water clucking down behind her an as she pulled a slab of wetter seaweed, in dead light of the hole, sure for the splittest of instants it’s the grey gaping face of Daddy Patrick! fixed in there as she screamed an fled backwards, fell on her arse but was up, an leaping off the shore onto the pounded earth at back of the night club.
What? Orla giggled. Crabs is it?
What is it? goes Kylah.
Chell was hunkered low as if pissing, face held down an she would’ve put her hands up to her eyes but for their minkinness wi the briny salt weed.
Kylah stepped over, kneeled likewise an put an arm round her shoulder, Whatsit?
Ah thought ah saw ma dad.
What’s up? Orla was stood, a long wrapper of seaweed in both arms.
She thought she saw her dad, Kylah goes quietly.
What one? Orla went an goes.
Hush Orla!
But Chell just sniggered an shook her head, she stood up an let a big breath, says, Do’ve ah big wet arse, ah fell? she swivelled round her arse an stuck it out in the almost non-light. There was some sand an just scabs of seaweed, the dried bubbly ones. Kylah brushed at Chell’s ass, rubbing the sand off and smacking her softly as she finished.
Yur fit. Okay?
Aye. Am sorry. Yous’ll think am mental.
No honey. It’s okay for us.
Ah swear. Ah saw him right there, buried in it, staring out at me, she pointed back to the heap. Wi the lights fro the railway pier behind, the heap seaweed was outlined, but appeared just as a black mass.
It must be all the sea stuff, goes Kylah.
Aye, went Orla.
There was no talking, just waves hit-hitting on the concrete lip.
Look at the state of ma fucking hands, goes Chell, in the morelight of that wasteland, she says, Someone else take a shot on the mound eh, am fuckin knackered.
Kylah an Orla looked toward the dark shore. Kylah licked her lips. Orla coughed.
Ah think we’ve got enough to climb in, says Orla, an followed over to the pile she’d been building.
Kylah looked back at the shore then hurried after them.
They stood round the pile below the window an Chell jumped up on it. It shrunk down a bit an she trampled round, like as if it were grapes, to solidify it more. The sill of the window was near tit-level an with a heave she was up an through it.
The window was too small to turn in an sit so’s she had to grab top of the cistern an pull herself in, Fuck, you could break yer neck, she says, an pulled on through, one leg, bent over, straddled the sill an swung the other leg. Chell put both palms on the wood an lowered herself. Her arms started shaking, she turned her neck far she could, dropped eyes to gauge the drop an let go. Her left knee-length boot skite-ed away an hit the sanny bin as she went over, slammed the cubicle door appallingly loud so’s the whole frame vibrated, the actual heel cunted off, went gibbering cross the tiles, hit the skirtin and rebounded, shooting away off under the toilet door, Ooo-yah, goes Chell an she stood up, one hand jabbed out as her busted-boot-foot-sunk back, heel-wise.
You okay?
Am fuckin in so ah am, but a bust ma boot. Yur gonna huff watch yerself.
Kylah’s hair in its tied-upness appeared, an her ringed fingers, curled up on the window frame, wi a pull she was in over her tits but she just pitched on screamin an Chell lunged fwd.
Whoaa!
Kylah swung a moment on her pelvicky area that let Chell get under as she slid in, an her upsidedown face, all red an fattened up, like the stupid cunt on the velcro wall, came onto Chell’s shoulder, an her laughter-breath was whacking into Chell’s ear.
Fucksake Kylah, ya loon!
Chell took weight of Kylah on her shoulder an lowered herself, bringing in the demin skirt that fell right down an Kylah was screamin, both hands flayin wild up there to try cover her arse an fanny. Chell concentrated, holding Kylah an movin backwards so Kylah’s feet just slid down the wall an sideways then she suddenly slapped them on the ground as Chell came up against the toilet roll on the cubicle wall. Kylah was still laughin an leaned her weight on Chell.
Get up, Kylah.
Kylah stood up an stopped laughin, says abrupt but quieter, Ah don’t think Orla’ll make it.
Chell leaned down an took off her boots. Fuckin ruined, she goes.
Orla pulled up an her face came into the window.
Chell slammed down the toilet lid an stood up on it. It was made of some shitey cheapo stuff so it buckled in but she leaned out, Orla, cmon.
Wi seeming no fear, Orla bounced up, got elbows over the sill an shoved herself inwards so she was hung half in, half out, she put her arms out an Chell got them.
Got her? Kylah grabbed Chell’s legs more, as to steady her an Chell put arms round Orla an by twisting on her axis, wound the wee girl in, Orla laughed but Chell put out an arm to steady them an the entire prefab toilet walls came free, wi little puffs of powder from each ceiling screw, the cubicle walls shuddered in a westerly direction, Orla’s feet shot in an her sudden weight sent Chell crashing onto the wall that bent all out of shape.
Chell an Orla were lying on the ground. Chell noticed the cubicle booths had been stuck to the tiles on the floor by these small sucker things, Only a fuckin policeman would fit heap of shite stuff like this, she says.
DJ Twenty spurted a blast of dry ice cross the loneliness of the empty dancefloor. More a cosmetic to hide its spaces than anything. Michelle and Manda were mashing an tonsil-tickling Scobie an his mate, turning in the ultraviolet light, the white smoke.
Fionnula, teeth blue in the low light, had drained her Malibu an Coke an Kay had nodded to the empty glass. They’d walked up the bar an another boy had come over an asked Kay to dance. They’d ordered more drinks.
Fuck you, goes Kylah an walked away. She shouted Fionnula n Kay, Yous go on in, have a laugh an come round Barrels fore two okay? Cmon Orla.
Manda was still stood afore him.
You can get in. Cheer up. You’re in the best place in town.
Manda gave the look of relief. It was major social humiliation to no get past the bouncer but once in, gave him look of deaths an walked on.
Fuckin wanker, goes Manda as they walked down the fairylight-lit corridor to the cloaky. They could hear the beat so slow sets hadny started.
He was such a fucking … arse, goes Kay, standing beside Fionnula.
Fionnula and Manda gave in their bags an took the tickets.
Cause Kay was using swear words, Manda looked at her an gave Kay an open sneer.
They walked on an Manda blethers, Right then, where are these fortunate sailors, eh, fortunate to meet you an me Fionnula, eh?
They went through that door wi the fire-glass, into the pink then blue flashes an novas of the bar an dance floor but juss through it, there was a noticeboard, one of they wi the horizontal grooves you stick little white letters into:
Ah fuck, went Manda an she rushed fwd, hopped up the deadly two steps at end of the bar, from where you survey the still-winter dancefloor and its rich pickings.
Three things happened simultaneously: Manda’s big sister, Catriona, across the silver of the reflecting floorboards, lifted a hand to wave from amongst The Hairdressers. Over the furthest corner of the Mantrap, where two young men were sitting at different tables wi half-gone lager pints an out-folded Daily Records afront them, a kick-fight broke out. Behind Manda, three marshals fro the car ferry pier, tore open the front of their reflective jackets. The velcro fixers made rips loud enough to hear above DJ’s Twenty’s fodder. The DJ so-called, account of his guarantee never to play any record that hadn’t been in the top twenty. He was padlocked, a bit above the dancefloor in a cage of barbed wire, to protect him from being carried out and thrown off the pier on Saturday nights as happened on his first engagement. A small key to the padlock, painted red, hung round his neck, in case of a fire.
The marshals lowered their jackets onto stools an gently sat before their newly blistering lager pints. They never bothered to turn, look the boys who had sat back down after throwing a few wild punches an were now just shouting at each other.
There were four people on the dancefloor. About fifteen local men along the bar.
Name of fuck, Manda held out her arms, let them slap back gainst her in despair. Look at it!
Michelle came trottin down the stair.
Fionnula was staring over at Catriona. Fionnula looked at Kay, lifted her forehead an elongated her cheeks in a forced smile.
It’s fucking shite, so much for sailors, he meant aa those old moaners of the fishing boats. Michelle shrugged. Where’s the others?
Never got in.
Past that twat-fuck. You fucked off quick enough, goes Manda.
Noways was ah getting knocked back. Next time am out I’ll be trying to sneak in a pram past him.
What do you want to drink? goes Kay.
Save yur money on me thanks Kay, all ah can have’s a glass water, goes Michelle.
Lemon Hooch, goes Manda.
Ah’ll help, goes Fionnula an stepped over with her. Manda watched them go.
Before Kay even got to the bar a boy walked along the railings an leaned to her ear, Kay shook her head an the boy walked away, to the toilets, try and pretend he’d been going that way anyways.
See that! MacKay boy just asked Kay to dance.
Bastard never asked one us.
Awful pale the day but she looks great tho eh?
Who?
Kay Clarke. Ah never knew she was hanging round wi yous.
She’s no.
You don’t like her, eh? See yur sister over there.
Aye.
There was a long bit of not talkingness. You Sexy Thing was started playing.
Michelle coughed an went, Where the others?
Barrels. Might as well juss go round, this is crap. Manda, who’d been leaned on the railings, turned an looked down the bar. Another boy had come up, leaned between Fionnula an Kay, touched Kay’s shoulder an says something: Kay smiled so’s her teeth shows, an says something back. The guy talked a little more an went down the bar where he was sat with another guy. Manda says, Fucking hell, they’re sniffin Kay.
Aye, goes Michelle, Know how it is in here. Nothing like a new face on the mental scene to raise the sleepy cocks.
Who’s that again? goes Manda.
What, Scobie Macintosh?
Nah, no him, that guy far end on his own. Cute. See him about.
He’s spoken for. Bit of a quiet case, he lives wi yon Morvern from the Superstore, used to live up the Scheme.
Oh right he’s the guy; that’s a bonny bonny lassie.
Kay an Fionnula came back over from the bar.
You’re doin okay. Ta, goes Manda, taking the Hooch.
Kay smiled an shrugged, sipped from a clear half pint.
No into Scobie Doo? It’ll be slow sets soon. Ya gotta have someone snog for slow sets, Michelle looked round then at Kay’s drink, You on the water too, Kay?
Mmmm.
What’re you drinkin? Manda nodded, aggressive at the glass.
Malibu an coke, Fionnula whispered, almost inaudible.
Manda slipped her Hooch bottle in the wee round holes along the wood top of the railings, If ah ask Scobie Doo to dance, will you ask his mate?
Aye, sure, goes Michelle, But he won’t slow dance an snog me when the sets come on; he knows fine ahm pregnant.
Depends how many pints he’s had. See yas.
Manda and Michelle walked along the bar then went down on the dancefloor wi Scobie Doo an mate in tow.
I’m really fed up wi all this, goes Fionnula. You no going over, talk to Catriona?
Kay just laughed, took a swig of the water.
What? Fionnula took out a cigarette an offered one.
No thanks.
On the water an no cigarettes. Haven’t made any big decisions, have you?
No.
What are you thinking?
Looking at those two, I’m wondering who’s worse off, Michelle pregnant or Manda not pregnant?
Manda’s got other problems too, you can’t be too hard on her though she can be a pain.
You’ll just say I’m just snob but, this is so small town, isn’t it?
Aye.
Like Catriona just isn’t even going to come over and say hello. And do you know why?
Why? goes Fionnula.
Cause she’s scared. It’s not that she doesn’t like me. I know she likes me a lot and she’s really not shy about things we’ve done to each other. She’s scared of this damned little town. If we were in the city she could come over and hug and no one would be gossiping. And it wouldn’t be such a big deal about what’s happening to me. And it wouldn’t be a big deal for you. You know. What you were saying today.
Ah know what you mean. Fionnula nodded. Sometimes it makes ya want to do something to fuck it all up. All the fuckin wee lies an hypocritical folk.
Some of those lies are not so wee.
Kay an Fionnula looked at each other. If I have an abortion I’ll have to leave. I’d be thrown out. Either way I can’t lie about what’s happened, Kay shrugged.
You won’t tell them everything?
Suppose some things are irrelevant.
Don’t fuck up your university, Kay. You’re brainy. I’ve always been jealous of you, just too much a big boots to admit it. You’ve got enough problems. You need the support of your parents, no matter what happens. I’ve got nothing. I can take ma clothes and leave this town.
And end up what? homeless on those streets today, sucking cocks for the price of a Big Mac.
There’s homeless folk here, says Fionnula.
I know.
It’s just, cause there’s still dregs of a sorta community feel, homeless are sleepin on folk’s floors, hid away or in leaky caravans. Like ma cousin Tommy; he’s a goodlooking boy. He’s got this caravan down the Borders, works the roads an stuff then he comes up here an does the surplus at the Alginate and sleeps in the front room wi his dog. Its 1996 an this country can’t give its people a roof over their heads. It’s funny, isn’t it! How in smaller towns, folk won’t allow other folk to lie on the streets but it’s okay in a city. So there is good stuff about bein stuck in a glory hole like this. But cause folk are kinder, all gets swept under the carpet and politician folk can ignore it cause no one’ll fight it. They say there’s goan be changes in this country. Well I think the only thing changes you in this life is the people ya talk with, the people you sleep with, people you work with. Every other bastard is either lying through his teeth or trying to sell ya something. It’s only other people that change your life.
Just then the lights sunk an a deep blue stained the smoked air round them as the slow sets began. Below on the dancefloor the pale faces of the tall boys fell on the upturned lips of Michelle and Manda.
There’s no fuckin fish boxes or nothing, goes Kylah, slowly moving her lit lighter from left to right an back again, then a gust battered it out.
Kylah, Chell and Orla were nowhere near Barrels. They were round back of the Mantrap, below the Ladies Toilet where the wee open window was. The rear of the Mantrap had an extention wi no ground floor windows. The corner of it was right angles to the Lynn, the subterranean river that flowed under most of the town, from where it went under, front the Superstore, to where it emerged in the little swan-marauded estuary, to rear of the night club. It was test of high school boys guts, at night, to splash up the tunnel fro the sea-end at low tide an no poofy torches, emerge soaked an slime-wrapped, climb out into the Superstore carpark an go for celebration pints in the Politician. The only bar that would have them.
In winter gales, even though the small waterbreak onto the shore wasny angled on incoming seas, breakers severed on the wall then their tops smashed gainst back of the Mantrap extension. Burst waves would chuck black seaweed bunches as high as where they hung from the rone pipes. Once a wooden fish box went through the first floor window and Sgt MacPherson, who owned the Mantrap, posted it to Grimsby wi a bill and invoice. In the hurricane an orange, calor gas cylinder was found up on the roof.
Kylah an Chell looked at each other.
Orla goes, Less we draw lots, odd one has to give the bunks up to the other two but she cannie get in.
Ach, must be a way, goes Chell. She strolled down, close the shore where a bit of a breeze was getting up an the tiny stars were faintly going. Then she saw it, Hoi!
Orla n Kylah walked over.
Yer jokin ah hope.
Please yourselves. Snogging sailors or not. That’s the choice. Slow sets’ll be started soon enough.
We need gloves or something, more of Michelle’s condoms!
No ways, it’ll be all dry wi this weather.
Chell jumped down an stepped over, crunchin shingle. A huge mountain of seaweed the county digger had dumped there after clearing the shore. Chell shoved both hands in an tugged out a double handful clutch, Cmon, some posh folk eat this.
Aye, that’s fuckin posh folk.
I’ll make a heap here, yous two gather in an pile it up under the window.
The seaweed was dry, powdering dusty stuff bashing offof it as Chell tore out huge, puffy chunks that smelled real bad. It was raising such dust, Chell would take a few backwards steps, throw the weed up onto raised level of ground an move round to escape the clouds. In twenty minutes or so they had stripped all crusted, outer lining an the weed was getting more damp an rubbery deeper inwards. Little trickles of water were coming off the hangin ends, drapplin cold drips cross her bare legs an when she lifted a hand to move hair away from her face, Chell’s fingers came too near her lips an she tasted the sea water sealed within those weeds; so there she was, dwarfed by this, in the dark, hoikin lumps out it an she got to thinkin about the creepy crawlies might be in that pile rotted weed, not just spiders but others, those leaping, trilobitey things when you coup a stone on a salt seashore, or little baby crabs, so young their top shell’s still transparent an you can see all inside things. All manner of sea beasts might be trapped in the seaweed-skimmed shore debris, an now the stars were almost gone above Chell, an the chopped moon was letting light fall out less often, an she could hear the water clucking down behind her an as she pulled a slab of wetter seaweed, in dead light of the hole, sure for the splittest of instants it’s the grey gaping face of Daddy Patrick! fixed in there as she screamed an fled backwards, fell on her arse but was up, an leaping off the shore onto the pounded earth at back of the night club.
What? Orla giggled. Crabs is it?
What is it? goes Kylah.
Chell was hunkered low as if pissing, face held down an she would’ve put her hands up to her eyes but for their minkinness wi the briny salt weed.
Kylah stepped over, kneeled likewise an put an arm round her shoulder, Whatsit?
Ah thought ah saw ma dad.
What’s up? Orla was stood, a long wrapper of seaweed in both arms.
She thought she saw her dad, Kylah goes quietly.
What one? Orla went an goes.
Hush Orla!
But Chell just sniggered an shook her head, she stood up an let a big breath, says, Do’ve ah big wet arse, ah fell? she swivelled round her arse an stuck it out in the almost non-light. There was some sand an just scabs of seaweed, the dried bubbly ones. Kylah brushed at Chell’s ass, rubbing the sand off and smacking her softly as she finished.
Yur fit. Okay?
Aye. Am sorry. Yous’ll think am mental.
No honey. It’s okay for us.
Ah swear. Ah saw him right there, buried in it, staring out at me, she pointed back to the heap. Wi the lights fro the railway pier behind, the heap seaweed was outlined, but appeared just as a black mass.
It must be all the sea stuff, goes Kylah.
Aye, went Orla.
There was no talking, just waves hit-hitting on the concrete lip.
Look at the state of ma fucking hands, goes Chell, in the morelight of that wasteland, she says, Someone else take a shot on the mound eh, am fuckin knackered.
Kylah an Orla looked toward the dark shore. Kylah licked her lips. Orla coughed.
Ah think we’ve got enough to climb in, says Orla, an followed over to the pile she’d been building.
Kylah looked back at the shore then hurried after them.
They stood round the pile below the window an Chell jumped up on it. It shrunk down a bit an she trampled round, like as if it were grapes, to solidify it more. The sill of the window was near tit-level an with a heave she was up an through it.
The window was too small to turn in an sit so’s she had to grab top of the cistern an pull herself in, Fuck, you could break yer neck, she says, an pulled on through, one leg, bent over, straddled the sill an swung the other leg. Chell put both palms on the wood an lowered herself. Her arms started shaking, she turned her neck far she could, dropped eyes to gauge the drop an let go. Her left knee-length boot skite-ed away an hit the sanny bin as she went over, slammed the cubicle door appallingly loud so’s the whole frame vibrated, the actual heel cunted off, went gibbering cross the tiles, hit the skirtin and rebounded, shooting away off under the toilet door, Ooo-yah, goes Chell an she stood up, one hand jabbed out as her busted-boot-foot-sunk back, heel-wise.
You okay?
Am fuckin in so ah am, but a bust ma boot. Yur gonna huff watch yerself.
Kylah’s hair in its tied-upness appeared, an her ringed fingers, curled up on the window frame, wi a pull she was in over her tits but she just pitched on screamin an Chell lunged fwd.
Whoaa!
Kylah swung a moment on her pelvicky area that let Chell get under as she slid in, an her upsidedown face, all red an fattened up, like the stupid cunt on the velcro wall, came onto Chell’s shoulder, an her laughter-breath was whacking into Chell’s ear.
Fucksake Kylah, ya loon!
Chell took weight of Kylah on her shoulder an lowered herself, bringing in the demin skirt that fell right down an Kylah was screamin, both hands flayin wild up there to try cover her arse an fanny. Chell concentrated, holding Kylah an movin backwards so Kylah’s feet just slid down the wall an sideways then she suddenly slapped them on the ground as Chell came up against the toilet roll on the cubicle wall. Kylah was still laughin an leaned her weight on Chell.
Get up, Kylah.
Kylah stood up an stopped laughin, says abrupt but quieter, Ah don’t think Orla’ll make it.
Chell leaned down an took off her boots. Fuckin ruined, she goes.
Orla pulled up an her face came into the window.
Chell slammed down the toilet lid an stood up on it. It was made of some shitey cheapo stuff so it buckled in but she leaned out, Orla, cmon.
Wi seeming no fear, Orla bounced up, got elbows over the sill an shoved herself inwards so she was hung half in, half out, she put her arms out an Chell got them.
Got her? Kylah grabbed Chell’s legs more, as to steady her an Chell put arms round Orla an by twisting on her axis, wound the wee girl in, Orla laughed but Chell put out an arm to steady them an the entire prefab toilet walls came free, wi little puffs of powder from each ceiling screw, the cubicle walls shuddered in a westerly direction, Orla’s feet shot in an her sudden weight sent Chell crashing onto the wall that bent all out of shape.
Chell an Orla were lying on the ground. Chell noticed the cubicle booths had been stuck to the tiles on the floor by these small sucker things, Only a fuckin policeman would fit heap of shite stuff like this, she says.
DJ Twenty spurted a blast of dry ice cross the loneliness of the empty dancefloor. More a cosmetic to hide its spaces than anything. Michelle and Manda were mashing an tonsil-tickling Scobie an his mate, turning in the ultraviolet light, the white smoke.
Fionnula, teeth blue in the low light, had drained her Malibu an Coke an Kay had nodded to the empty glass. They’d walked up the bar an another boy had come over an asked Kay to dance. They’d ordered more drinks.
