Dirt Road (7 page)

Back at the motel he stayed outside the reception office while Dad was in finalising details. He strolled along to the room and waited by the front door. On the upper floor the couple were on their chairs on the outside corridor. The old man called down again: Howdy.

Hiya, called Murdo.

Dad had ordered a taxi in fifteen minutes. Murdo was ready in five. Food in the fridge from last night. Three slices of bread and a sliver of cheese. Dad had left it for him. Murdo just left it, he didnt want to eat. He wasnt being huffy. Just the idea, he couldnt stomach it.

Ye wondered why Dad would do something like that: saying no to Sarah's father. Murdo lifted his rucksack and slung it over one
shoulder. Sarah's father had been friendly. Murdo's father hadnt been friendly back; the very opposite, not even polite. It was just embarrassing. Murdo should have told him to eat the bread himself.

That would have been cheeky. But better Dad eating it than leaving it behind. Good bread and cheese. Although the bread wasnt that good anyway, it had an unusual flavour and tasted sugary. The cheese would have made it okay.

Imagine an actual meal.

Saying no to an actual meal. Why would anybody do that? Murdo wasnt the huffy one there it was Dad. What point was he making? It had to be a point. It would have been good food too, hot food. Even just to see what it was. Different people ate different meals. Americans too so what would that have meant? Good gravy and mashed potatoes maybe, cabbage and peas. Sunday lunch. Roast meat and vegetables.

That was a real meal. Murdo and his father didnt have real meals. Not nowadays, not for Sunday lunch. They didnt have Sunday lunch. They didnt have any lunch; only like toast, and soup out a tin if ye could be bothered bloody opening it. They had their meal in the evening. It was usually okay. Sometimes they had a whole steak pie bought out the butcher. They halved it for Sunday and Monday. Dad did frozen roast potatoes and peas, sometimes carrots. There was usually a football match on television. Dad liked football. Murdo did too but not so much as him.

When they reached the bus station the taxi driver drove round the other side of the bus park area. There was a restaurant. A huge big place standing on its own ground. Menus were posted outside the door, long lists of grub, all different stuff. Dad peered inside through the restaurant window. It's busy, he said. He checked his wristwatch. He peered in again. I think it's too busy, he said.

Murdo saw in the window, saw empty tables. People were coming out the restaurant and others were going in. Mostly families, mostly black people. Round the side of the building Murdo saw two cars queuing for takeaways. There was a hatch to give in yer orders.

Do ye know what ye're having? said Dad.

Hamburger and chips. Are we not going in?

It's too busy.

Aye but it's big inside. There's empty tables.

I think we're better with a carry-out son, just to be on the safe side. I know we're in good time but ye never know.

Murdo waited by the front entrance while Dad placed the order, he strolled to the edge of the pavement. This street was parallel to the main road. If he crossed here, turned right and kept in a straight line, he would arrive at the Wild West shop and the pawnshop. The accordeon would still have been there. It wouldnt have sold since last night. Unless pawnshops opened on Sundays. Maybe they did.

When the food arrived they strolled round the block eating it. Dad didnt want to go inside the waiting room until the food was finished. They sat on a bench in the bus parking area. The hamburger was okay but the chips were the thinnest ever; not even crispy which would have made them bearable. The best bit was the bun. One of these wee pick-up trucks entered. Murdo watched it circle about. This place was reserved for buses. The truck reversed into the stance across the way. The horn tooted. The front passenger door opened and Sarah was there – Sarah! Murdo was onto his feet immediately. Dad it's Sarah! And Joel too Dad look it's me, it's me they're looking for!

Joel kept the engine running. Sarah saw him and sat back in the passenger seat leaving the door open. Murdo jogged across, laughing. She had a packet for him. A present of two CDs; one from her and one from Queen Monzee-ay. Gran was talking after you left, she said, about the gig. Would you want to sit in Murdo?

What?

She's hoping you will, that'd be so cool.

She had a locket round her neck. Had she been wearing it this morning? Murdo couldnt remember. Just seeing it made ye smile. Where did she get it? Who gave her it? Was a picture inside? Ye
saw them on television programmes to do with antiques. Miniature photographs were locked inside. When she talked she held onto it. Dad thinks your father could organise it, she said. Joel?

Yeah, said Joel. You come down spend the night. We'll be with friends and they got room.

Murdo grinned, whatever they were talking about, the gig. He rubbed at the edge of his mouth.

Not next Saturday but the next again, said Joel.

Sarah said, I put a note in the packet there Murdo; got all the information. I wrote it in.

She paused. A guy in a bus-driver's uniform was striding towards them. Trucks and private cars werent allowed. Over by the waiting area Dad stood by the door. Sarah spoke quickly: Gran says you played special and you played it to her – that is what she liked. Means you can play together. Makes it rich. You bring that. Dad says your Dad could organise it for the one night. Come down Saturday, go home Sunday morning. It would be so cool if you came Murdo.

The uniformed guy jerked his thumb at the exit. Joel acknowledged him, and whispered: We got to go.

You think you might? asked Sarah.

Eh…

Gran says so. It's enough for her what you did this morning. She said you done enough and like you will do just fine. A friend is on guitar with us Murdo, just a wonderful guitar player, just the very best, so like the four of us Murdo, a one-off night for Gran. So so cool if you came, it would be wonderful Murdo, you will let her go, she said it, your playing, she can go someplace different.

Murdo scratched at the back of his head. Sarah reached her hand to his shoulder and gave it a wee sort of massage. His eyes shut in reflex. His face went red and he couldnt stop it, couldnt have stopped it. She just

like a zinging in his ears, it was just

The two CDs you got in the packet, she said, one is from Gran
and it's got her songs, them we're doing. It's from what we did this morning and maybe a couple more but not like surprises, she said to tell you, no surprises, just like what you know Murdo, that's how Gran said it, the gig's all here is what she means; no surprises. That was to tell you.

Okay.

You think you'll come? It would be so wonderful.

Murdo laughed. But what was he laughing at? What even was he thinking? He didnt know that either. Sarah's touch. His face was still red. He stared at her: the way her hair ended by her neck and shoulders, just that way the neck went into the shoulder and became the shoulder, that curve there. The locket in her fingers, then just like how she touched him, that was Sarah, jees, even just like touching.

Sarah was waving. Joel had released the handbrake, was turning the wheel and giving him a wave at the same time. Joel called out the window: Lafayette man!

Murdo held the packet. Joel waved a kind of salute and it was like a pal saying cheerio, that was him going away on a long trip. And Sarah there waving but not like cheerio forever. They would meet again. Definitely. Otherwise? Never again in his life so like that was the two of them forever and ever. How could that happen? He had only met them for one day and it was like they were true friends. Terrible.

The same woman from yesterday had been at the information and ticket counter. Dad didnt have change for the payphone and she gave him the use of her own cell phone to make the call. But he got through to Uncle John. Now they could relax. Murdo didnt open the packet until aboard the second bus. The first had been a short trip to get them someplace bigger. This second one was the longest. It was the bus after that where Uncle John was meeting them. Dad read his book until the light made it difficult. Finally he closed his eyes. Murdo waited a few minutes. When Dad looked to be dozing he peeled open the packet. It contained two CDs and a
hand-written note. But before he could read the note Dad opened his eyes again. Murdo slipped the note back inside the packet.

The bus was half empty too. They could have had double seats for privacy instead of sitting together. But that was Dad; double seats for yerself was too “risky”; maybe one of them was a secret trapdoor and if it opened ye dropped down under the wheels.

At least he was on the window seat. The roads were straight and long. Imagine yer own car. Ye could go anywhere. Get away from everything. The pick-up truck Joel drove belonged to his parents but it was his to use whenever he wanted. Okay it was for deliveries to do with the family store but he could use it for other things too.

A school pal of Murdo's lived on a farm and had been driving since he was twelve. He learned on a tractor. Other boys had been driving since they were young. Back home there was a forest track led through other tracks. As long as the mud wasnt too deep it was ideal for learner drivers. Although Dad's car would have sunk, it was too wee. It was a good track for mountain bike races. Murdo had been going it a while. It led round and down through the woods to the edge of the loch. Coming out from the high trees and bushland the water always looked great, but especially with the sun making it sparkle. There was a break in the bank here out from the trees and ye could see where they dragged a boat in the old days for ferrying. There was a half demolished pier at the harbour that was used for coal in bygone days. Boys fished off it although they werent supposed to. A great song connected to when a ferry crossed hundreds of years ago taking pilgrims to Iona. The ferry was more like a rowing boat. It only went when travellers wanted it. They had to signal from the other side. In winter they swung a lantern. The song was about a young guy called Lachlan Cameron getting hunted by Campbells. Murdo knew the song well. Really it was a pipe tune. The young guy was badly wounded and they captured him. They were going to hang him at the town of Inveraray where they hanged people for the government. Lachlan managed
to escape before they took him. He hid under an old upside-down hulk, a beached fishing boat at the head of the loch. One of the lasses from the village found him. She was out walking and heard his agonised breathing. She brought him food, even although he was a different religion; either a Catholic or Protestant and she was the opposite. After three days and three nights she helped him onto a rowing boat across the loch but she wasnt able to row him over for reasons to do with her own family. Maybe they were loyal to the Campbells. Whatever it was it meant she wasnay able to help Lachlan further. It was brave of her taking the chance and angering her own parents. The crossing is quite far but if ye were used to rowing and had a good boat then ye could manage it. But ye had to know what ye were doing. The water changes round there. Two lochs meet so the waters are deep and treacherous because of the currents and ye wouldnay want to swim. It was a wild wild night when Lachlan set out. If he made it to the other side he promised to send the lassie a letter. She never got a letter so Lachlan didnt make it and was never seen again. Did he escape to freedom? Maybe he rowed away someplace else and dragged the boat ashore, hid it in the bushes. It was easy done. There were thick thick woods where Murdo lived. Ye would just make sure ye had a good spot and a good landmark. The song ends without telling ye if he made it over. Did the boat sink? Did Lachlan drown? That was the story for the lassie from the village. She
knew
Lachlan was dead. Otherwise how come she didnt get his letter? If he was alive he would have sent it at all costs. But maybe not. Murdo didnt know whether the guy would have sent it. Maybe he wanted to turn up and surprise her. The worst thing for the lassie was if Lachlan sent the letter and other people got it and just burnt it without telling her. So he was alive and she never knew, and he never knew that she never knew but just maybe that she didnt want to hear from him again, she had found another guy. That is what he would think. It was a sad story. Except the wee cheery ending, because nobody found the rowing boat, so that was a hope. If ever Murdo had money a
boat is what he wanted, above all. Never mind a car… With a boat ye could take off anyplace, anyplace at all, it was up to you, just wherever. Imagine a lassie too, like a girlfriend and she was coming with ye, there would be nobody there except you and you could just like whatever, even a swim, like nude, you could just dive in and that would be that, just her body and ye would be swimming together and diving down, her floating past ye and her nude body just stretching

It was dark now and ye could see faces reflected in the windows. A couple of folk had their individual reading lights switched on. Apart from that not much, country or town. Who knows where, he couldnt imagine anything, and didnt want to anyway, it was a waste of time. Dad wouldnt do anything.

Murdo took his head away from the window. He had been leaning against it to feel the cold, then the vibrations, he would end up travel sick.

The idea of the gig with Sarah and her grandmother. It was straightforward except with Dad it would never happen. Never ever. Ye could even feel sorry for him; sometimes Murdo did. In this life things go. What did he feel, right at this very moment? Life was ending or something. Because it was all just stupid how things happened. Ye met people then it was gone. A lassie like Sarah too. Lassies touch ye but when it's a certain way, just a certain way, ye just kind of like…it's something, ye could shiver. That was how she touched him. What did it matter anyway? It was gone and that was that. Only sometimes, Why me? That was what ye thought. Ye meet people and they have lives, but you dont.

TWO

Past midnight and deserted. They were seated on a bench at a bus-stop, luggage by their feet; the second bus dumped them here an hour ago. No bus station, just this bench at the outside wall of the drop-off point. Uncle John still hadnt arrived. There was an old payphone but Dad couldnt make it work. Maybe nobody could. He was back trying again. He managed the coins into the slot okay but whatever else he was doing it just wasnt happening. He saw Murdo watching and replaced the receiver, stepped away from it.

Dad will I try? asked Murdo.

Instead of replying Dad walked to the edge of the kerb and stared one way then the other.

But with payphones ye had to do everything in sequence. When ye put the money in and when ye dialed the number was important. Maybe Dad was doing it in the wrong order. Plus the area codes. It was only a wee town. Maybe ye needed to key in different codes like for cities closeby or else if it was a different state. Maybe it was. Then if there wasnt much light to see and there was hardly any light here; only one lamp, plus the moon!

Maybe Uncle John's car had broken down someplace. That happens. People get breakdowns. What if he had had one in the middle of nowhere?

Dad was still staring down the road. Maybe he hadnt heard. What did it matter, it was Murdo's fault anyway, them being here. That was missing the bus. Then disappearing this morning when he went to the shop and heard the music. If he didnt need the
teabags he wouldnt have gone to the shop. So it was the teabags' fault. But it was Dad wanted them.

Murdo settled his elbows on his knees and pulled up the hood on his jacket although it wasnt cold. It was calm and peaceful. Ye noticed the breeze, that wee whisshh, whisshh. That is how calm it was. Just sitting there on the bench. That was good anyway, having benches. It was too wee a place for a waiting room but at least ye could sit down, then leaning forwards, yer elbows on yer knees and just staring at the ground, and the ground was like anywhere in the world. Ye could forget everything.

What happens when ye get mesmerised? The way sounds connect in yer brain. Ye hear sounds. Him and Dad on a bench and nobody walking past. A ghost town. People in their houses and all the doors closed. Windows all shut. Yet sounds were here. The wind at night blows in from the hills or from the sea. Thunder miles away and the sounds. What comes in yer ears? These wee passages and tubes.

Something does. Then what happens? Connections. Memories maybe. Not just memories. Ye go someplace in yer brain. Back home they lived up a hill at the back of the town and there were no sounds except country sounds: the fields and the hills; the forest, the river and the lochs; the sea itself. Lying in bed at night and ye cannot sleep and have to close the window: how come? oh it is too noisy! But the sounds arent loud it is only because ye hear them. You: you hear them. So ye just have to not hear them, then ye can go to sleep, instead of floating off in yer head.

A science teacher played the class music to do with rain and water. Big dollops of rain on a corrugated roof; soft pattering on a shallow pond; a rushing river; drip trails on a pane of glass. People were impressed but it wasnt as big a deal as all that. The fiddle makes the sound of a train blowing in from a distance, disappearing into nothing. A mouth organ did as good a train sound as a fiddle. Trains coming and going. Ye could do stuff on accordeon too, or plucking a guitar string. It depended who was doing it and what they were doing it for. But it was always people doing it. Take away
the people and there wasnay anything. That included computerised sound-systems, multi-track mixing and whatever, it was still you had to programme it in. The teacher was right about that.

But it was obvious anyway. Trains never arrive any place. Only the person. A train is there and then it is there and inbetween it is there, and there, and there it is again because it doesnt go anyplace. A person never goes anyplace, it is only the train. The train moves and the person arrives. “Doh” starts and “doh” finishes. When ye get to doh ye arrive, ye have arrived. And take off if ye want!

That was Murdo right now, he felt like that. The world moves but you dont, you are still sitting there.

Music helped ye work things out. From “rain” to “train” ye added a “t”. Then there was “tee” as in la tee doh. “Tee” is always getting someplace and never arrives, not until “doh”. “Tee” needs the “doh”. “Me” stands alone.

What sounds do people make?

The sound of Mum.

Did Dad make sounds after she died? Murdo didnt, he couldnt. Didnt because couldnt. Couldnt couldnt. Whoever could would. He couldnt. His head didnt work. Only for stupid stuff. What was a hospice? He didnt know. Imagine that. Ye have to be dying. The doctor tells ye, Oh ye have to go to the hospice.

But I dont know what a hospice is.

It means you are dying.

Oh.

Dad told Murdo the night he heard the news. Murdo had a night off from hospital and was fooling about with a couple of pals. He came home before eleven o'clock, intending to make toast and tea then skip upstairs to his room except Dad was waiting by the door, waiting for him. They sat down at the kitchen table. Dad wasnt looking good. He was trying to be okay but wasnt good at all. It was just like jeesoh ye knew something. Eventually Dad spoke. Mum's being transferred to the hospice. He stared at Murdo then gave a wee smile.

Oh Dad that's brilliant!

That is what Murdo said: brilliant. The exact opposite from what it was. He thought hospice was good. He thought it the next thing up from a hospital. He thought a hospice was where the patient went as the next stage in the recovery process. Go into a hospice and then go home after. Could ye get more stupid? How could a person be so stupid? So utterly utterly just the stupidest most stupidest

Dad didnt know he had misunderstood and it was about two days before Murdo realized the truth. Nobody told him. It was how people reacted when they heard him say it. It was like Oh God… And Murdo saw their faces.

Imagine seeing into somebody's head. A surgeon does it but only for bones, brains, arteries and stuff, not to see actual thoughts or hear what somebody is thinking. Inside the head is the skimpiest imaginable bit of noise, like the weest tiniest particle possible. It begins from a thought in the brain which sets off a vibration. These vibrations add to the noise of the world. Dad's too; sitting on the bench; this wee town in America; staring at nothing; his arms folded and mouth open – it was, it was open. Dad sat with his mouth open; an old man! He wasnt staring at nothing, but into the distance, the street out of town. In his head it was the same as in Murdo's: Mum and Eilidh. Dad and Murdo, Mum and Eilidh. Two and two: two alive and two dead.

At the funeral the Minister was talking about God's creation. Created and cremated: the letter “m” turned the live creation into the dead cremation. “M” for Minister, “M” for Mum, “M” for Murdo.

Some letters can be good. Murdo liked “b” and “s” and “z” but not so much “d”; “t” was okay. Dad was “t” for Tom. “M” for “mee” was good as in doh ray mee. “Mee” is a cheery note. Not for a death. Ye make that sound deep in yer throat; mmmmmmm, a humming sound, going on and on and on. It can last forever. But when the breath is gone the “m” is gone.

Murdo leaned his elbows back on his knees and sat forwards, staring at the ground.

Soon after came the police patrol car. This was the third time. It passed slowly, the cops staring at them, just like out a movie; quite scary. The car looked heavy and powerful. Probably they were suspicious characters. If they made a wrong move the cops would arrest them. If they tried for a getaway they would catch them easily or kill them. They would! If they thought ye were dangerous. Maybe ye werent dangerous but so what, if they thought ye were: bang bang, Aaahhhhh. Oh he is innocent. Sorry, I shouldnt have killed him.

A 4x4 approached. One of these solid big things, built like a tank.

Uncle John! said Dad.

It was. He had the window down and saluted them with his arm outside. Another man was with him. Both wore baseball caps. He did a U-turn, pulled up beside them and jumped out.

Tommy! Uncle John laughed loudly and grabbed Dad for a cuddle, slapping him on the back. It was strange to see. Dad just stood there but he was laughing too. He never gave cuddles except to women. Murdo didnt expect it either but the same happened. Uncle John grabbed him by the shoulders: cuddle thump thump thump. Then he stepped away, looking him up and down. Murdo Murdo I was expecting a wee boy for God sake what age are ye now, ye're near bigger than me! Jees Dave look at the size of him.

Dave was the man with him. Uncle John grabbed Murdo by the shoulders once again: cuddle thump thump thump: Tommy Tommy, what age is he! Honest to God I was expecting a kid! How old are ye son?

Sixteen, coming up for seventeen.

God love us! My own big sister's grandson Murdo that's who you are! She never made it but you have. Uncle John laughed then shook hands with Dad a second time. Tommy son I never thought to see ye. I feel weepy! He sighed, then introduced the other man. A good friend. Dave Arnott. Got the Macdonald blood in him. Eh Dave!

Dave smiled and shook hands with Dad then Murdo. Uncle John meanwhile lifted Dad's suitcase. Dad said quickly, That's heavy.

Uncle John gave him an amused look and hoisted it into the boot of the 4x4. Although much older than Dad he lifted the suitcase easily. Murdo made to shove his rucksack into the boot but Dad did so instead. Uncle John closed the boot and showed Dad into the front passenger's seat. Dave and Murdo were for the rear. Murdo sat on the side behind Dad. While they were finding the seat-belts Uncle John said: Tommy son, how in hell you ever end up in Allentown, Mississippi!

Dad sighed.

Uncle John laughed. One for the storybooks eh!

He drove in a relaxed way, chatting to Dad with one hand on the wheel, shouting occasional comments back to Murdo and Dave, while the radio played country music. He lived in a small town someplace on the outer regions was how he described it: I call it Scotstown. Every second person ye meet. Take Dave's family now the Arnotts, they been here since forever, eh Dave?

Couple of hundred years, said Dave.

Hear that? Puts us all to shame! Then you got Macleods, Macleans, Macsweens, Macaulays, Johnsons – Johnson's a Scottish name Tommy?

Yeah.

Just everywhere ye go!

Dave turned to Murdo. You got Arnotts and Macdonalds round where you come from?

Eh yeah, I think so.

The old Macdonalds! cried Uncle John. They were the ones with the farm; eh Murdo boy!

It was the Battle of Culloden that ended it for the Macdonalds, said Dad. They were forced to leave the country after that. They would have been wiped out otherwise.

Jees yeah! Hear that Dave? Wiped out! Then ye got the other one, Glencoe. Right Tommy?

Yeah. And before that the Covenanters.

The Covenanters! Uncle John called over his shoulder.

They got a homecoming two years from now! replied Dave.

When Dad didnt answer Dave Arnott looked to Murdo for a comment but Murdo was not sure what he meant. Dad was knowledgeable on history and politics but he wasnt.

Later no one was talking. Uncle John had increased the volume on the radio. It was for one particular song, loud on mandolin. Bill Monroe! he said. His people now they hail from the Outer Hebridee Islands Tommy, you believe that? Bill Monroe! Come from the island of Lewis. Uncle John started singing along on the chorus: I'm on my way to the old home, a place I know so well.

He knew the song but not the words and continued in a doo doo doo doo doo style. He stopped soon and chuckled. That's us Tommy son! On our way to the old home! Hey Murdo! You sleeping back there?

Nearly.

Nearly! Uncle John laughed.

*

It was past two in the morning by the time they arrived. Murdo enjoyed that drive. He didnt remember Uncle John too well but there was something about being here and traveling a road ye had never been before with this old guy from yer own family. Murdo's granny was Uncle John's big sister. That gave Murdo a nice feeling too, seeing the parallel with himself and Eilidh. When Uncle John spoke about his sister ye could see how much she meant to him. His own wife was Aunt Maureen. Murdo met her back when he was wee but couldnt remember anything about her. Her and Uncle John had two sons living in other parts of America: first cousins of Dad.

Aunt Maureen had gone to bed but left sandwiches for them
on a plate. Uncle John put on the kettle for tea. Dad just sat there, he looked exhausted. Murdo said, Mum would have loved it here Dad wouldnt she.

Dad smiled.

Uncle John was Dad's relation by blood but Mum would have loved the adventure. Plus the house; detached bungalow-style with a basement, comfy and with wee ornaments and fancy-looking things. All of it, Mum would have loved it.

Murdo was put in the basement. When Uncle John told Murdo he said, Great. Uncle John laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. Aunt Maureen had guessed he would choose that because it was what boys liked.

But for Murdo it was only because it was out the way of things and he could relax and not have to bother about stuff. There was one big room and two wee ones and the stairs down opened into the big one. A mattress was on the floor but Aunt Maureen had prepared it like a bed with sheets and a duvet, and left two towels neat and folded on top of it. That was the towels. Ha ha to Dad. People gave ye towels if ye were a guest.

With his two sons long gone Uncle John wanted to develop the basement properly. He hadnt got round to it yet but would in the future. A question of time, he said. Most of the space was taken up with furniture and stuff; cupboards, wardrobes and different types of tables; big polythene bags bundled together. Uncle John had shifted stuff to create space for Murdo roundabout the bed area but it was difficult to walk without banging into something, and the same in the two small rooms adjacent. But it was still good, and private too: Murdo liked that.