Skagboys (57 page)

Then ah spy her in the crowd, the doolally Marsha, surrounded by a group ay hungry-eyed black yute and some aulder Caribbean bloaters whae wirnae at the back ay the queue when the rice n peas wis daein its rounds. She clocks me and comes ower, eyes blazing and demented. — He came into my farking flat and started farking shouting! Then he climbed right aht the farking windah, innit!

— He’s a nut job, ah tell her.

Marsha looks at me in acknowledgement that ah couldnae gie a fuck, so she shouldnae really bother pretending tae, or at least no that much. Lucinda and her, two London ladies of different social standing, the posh and the impoverished, regard each other in mutual wariness and intimidation. Marsha turns back tae me and says, — You oughta be looking after him! He’s your flatmate!

— Que sera, sera, ah observe as the wee radge bird’s loony lamps blaze fae me back up tae the fourteenth floor. We’ve nothing more tae say tae each other.

Ah spy the ginger heid of the Rent Boy and approach his edgy, quivering back, though when he clocks us his sly eyes still briefly dance across Lucinda’s chest. — The polis telt us tae get ootside, he whinges. — They willnae let anybody in the stair. They’ve sent some cunt up tae talk tae um! Gear on the coffee table n ivraythin!

He now has ma full attention; ah slap ma heid in exasperation. — If he does anything stupid …

— Fuckin polis could turn the fuckin gaff ower, Renton snaps through clenched yellow teeth.

Lucinda pulls on my hand. — It’s okay, Simon, she reassures me, — the Metropolitan Police know what they’re doing. They receive proper training for these situations.

Receive proper training. Brixton. Broadwater Farm. Stoke Newington. David Martin. Blair Peach. Colin Roach
. — Aye, they’re well up wi the game.

He’s still on that narrow ledge, hanging onto the frame. How the fuck did he git oot there? There’s a safety catch so you have to unscrew it tae open the windae past the point where somebody could step out. There’s a polis cordon at the entrance tae the flats; naebody can get in. One old munter is moaning that she has to get through cause her cat needs fed. It falls on deef polis lugs. What the fuck is that dipstick daein, aw this hassle ower a ten-a-penny wee spunk-bucket? Marsha was jumping around on the spot, now she’s weeping and being comforted by her sister. The wee bird’s a decent enough ride, but so damaged as tae be completely unfixable. He musht be able to shee that, Sean, surely?
Love ish blind tho, Shimon
. This shavyor complex, Sean, why do sho many people have it?
Shearch me, buddy
.

It’s hard to discern whether Nicksy wants tae jump or has decided it’s no such a good idea, and is too frozen up wi fear tae get back inside. Ah catch Rents muttering something that sounds like, — Fuckin attention-seeking cunt, and I couldnae agree more with the sentiment. Then he spoils it by adding, — If any cunt should be daein that it’s me, and he
turns
his chalky, spotty, druggie face tae us. — Charlene’s jist chucked us!

— Sorry to hear it, I say, twitching a bit, as you can see Lucinda’s wheels turning as if she’s thinking,
I thought he was in a relationship with that Penny
… The fucking ginger tramp has only been shagging her for a couple ay weeks; hardly Romeo and Juliet, ah would have thought. — I think he’s trapped himself. I squeeze ‘Cinder’s’ hand, pointing up at floor fourteen, tae divert her dangerous train of thought. Her eyes widen and her mouth forms a fraught, trembling oval.

I’m thinking that a straight-line fall would see Nicksy smashing onto concrete paving stones, while pushing off in a dedicated hari-kari jump might mean him hitting the gress. Either way, he’s fucked. More ay a nasty clean-up job on the concrete, one would imagine. That’s if the body splits open. At that thought, I feel shivers running up the backs ay my legs and intae my hands as my ringpiece starts to go intae a spasm. Ah suddenly want him no tae jump, tae be saved, and want it wi every fuckin fibre ay ma being. That cunt took me in. The boy is fucking sound. I feel the tight plastic box in my pocket, containing that diamond-studded band of gold, and ah just want to get Lucinda up the stairs and fuck her beautifully, then, when she’s in a demented trance, pop the question and slip the fucking thing onto her finger. Game, set and match, Williamson, and this selfish cunt Nicksy’s ruining everything!

Cinders shall go to the ball!

Then you can see this copper appear at the windae. He’s talking to Nicksy, who looks really scared. Ah wish ah had binos, but it’s clear some negotiating is taking place. The cop is still, I can’t make out his features, but his movements are economical. The circus goes on for what seems like an age, though it’s probably just a few minutes tops, before Nicksy glances doon and shuffles along the ledge. The cop takes his airm, smiling reassuringly at him, helping him climb back intae the flat, one leg first, then the other.

As he vanishes inside a big cheer goes up followed by a polite round ay applause, like clapping at a cricket match. Despite the fact that there is now nothing gaun oan, two retards in polis uniform – a jug-eared gawkoid and a blonde, overweight, low-self-esteem minger – refuse tae take the cordon doon. — We need to wait for clearance, the fat bint says, hudin a scratchy walkie-talkie tae her lug.

Eventually, the thickoid Old Bill decide that there’s nae mair bodies waiting tae climb oot windaes in the flats, and we’re very graciously allowed back intae our homes.

Thank you for that, flatfoot
.

The lift is broken again, so it’s a gruelling seven-flight climb. At least it shows a sweating Lucinda how the other half live, while Renton mumbles and snivels away about life’s injustices, the yins supposedly pertaining to him inevitably taking prime spot. I recognise a laughing sneer coming from the stairs up ahead of us, and it’s that Marsha. She looks doon at us, her hands on her hips. — So this is your posh gelfriend then? That why you don come up an fuck me no more, boy?

Ah see both Lucinda and Renton rubbernecking tae me and feel the blood draining ootay my face. Lucinda turns and storms down the stairs, and ah’m in hot pursuit. — Cinders! Wait!

She stops and pivots roond tae face me. — Leave me alone! Just fuck off!

— Every other night he’s up here, innit. Ah look up and see Marsha leaning over the balustrade, cackling like a Caribbean voodoo witch, a mass of huge white teeth in a wizened face.

— She’s crazy, Cinders! She’s Nicksy’s bird!

— He gotta big black mole on one of his white balls, she shrieks in laughter, her sister joining in.

— Which baw? Renton wastedly asks, and in a way that the doss cunt is
actually trying tae be fucking helpful
. I clutch my forehead in anguish, digging forefinger and thumb intae ma pulsing temples.

— Just leave me! Fucking leave me! Lucinda shouts, then lowers her voice. — To think … you’re such a liar and a creep … I actually feel sorry for you, she laughs, a horsy, throaty accompaniment tae the shrill sound ay cockney-Jamaican ridicule coming fae above, reverberating around the stairwell.

— Fuck! I slap my head again as the raucous clucks above recede, Marsha and her sister bolting up the stairs.

— Gittin ditched is shite … we’ve aw been ditched now … Renton gormlessly observes, — Go eftir her!

— Not a fucking chance. It’s all ruined now: my life is effectively over, I tell him, pushing past him and mounting the stairs. Then I hear a snakelike — Fuck! And then he’s tearing past me, bounding demonically up the steps. When ah get intae the flat, Renton is manically clearing up the skag and attendant paraphernalia from the coffee table. — HELP AYS YA FUCKIN DINGUL! There’s nothing to do but comply and we’re just in time as the door bangs. They’ve taken Nicksy back down; he’s in the company of the cop, and this woman who wears a disapproving scowl. Renton puts the kettle on and makes some tea. The woman nervously holds a chipped and stained West Ham mug as her and the cop settle
Nicksy
down on the couch. I’m destroyed, and badly need tae lay doon and consider my ever-shrinking options. Ah go tae the windae tae see Lucinda striding with purpose across the green towards Kingsland Road and the overland station, which will take her west and to real life.

My life is over. Wrecked
.

— Fuck sakes, you awright? Rents stands behind me.

— I’ll live, I tell him.

— Ah meant Nicksy. He points tae the wreckage on the settee.

— Yeah … Nicksy groans, looking up like a half-drowned sewer rat. The cop puts his hand on the pathetic vegetable’s shoulder. — Brian has to come with us for a chat, then he can go home later. He looks tae the hostile lassie, who ah assume is a fucking social worker. Far be it fae me tae simplistically vilify an entire occupation, but all social workers are fucking cunts. — Nothing sinister, he says, catching Rents’s belligerent expression, — he just needs somebody ta talk to.

Cinders
…

I sort of loved her
.

— He can talk tae us, Rents says defensively, — we’re his mates.

I’m thinking,
speak for yourself, Rent Boy
. Collecting lame ducks (or at least ones without vaginas) is not my style.

Oh, Cinders, come back … I even paid for that fucking ring!

The cop looks at us with a tired smile and a shake ay his heid. Nicksy shrugs in sheepish apology, as if in acknowledgement that he’s been a right twat, which he most certainly has. I’ve changed my mind again. If you’re gaunny dae something like that, at least have the backbone tae go through wi it instead ay crapping out and looking like a dickless clown. Look at poor Spud, fighting for his life on a fucking ventilator, when this spineless Ingloid poof doesnae even have the baws tae throw his away. Look at me, jilted by my almost-fiancée, but still in the game. Still fighting.

Renton follows the wretch down in the lift. I tag along: just cause ah cannae think ay anything else tae dae.
Perhaps Cinders will have turned back
.

At the bottom ay Beatrice Webb House, Nicksy gets in a car wi the social worker woman, who drives him off, doubtless for a hearty mind-hump somewhere. The copper who talked him in turns tae another polisman, then looks up at the council grey ay the tower against the pale blue sky, and notes, — It’s a long way down.

What brilliant fucking powers ay observation! We’re privileged tae have a Met high-flyer on the case! Nonetheless, ah find masel looking up, thinking ay ways ah can get revenge on that wee black nympho hoor. If fuckin Nicksy had’ve been giein her a proper length, she wouldnae have
needed
tae have played away wi me, and ah’d be planning a society wedding now!

Renton seems fascinated by the rescue copper, a tall, thin, shaven-headed mutation wi olive skin. He has these kind ay laughing eyes, which dinnae match up wi his cruel slash ay a mooth. — How did you get him to come in?

The cop looks at him in mild contempt, then seems tae soften a wee bitty. — Just listened a bit. Talked and listened.

— What’s up wi him?

— You’re his mates, the pig shrugs, — maybe he’ll tell you himself, in his own time.

Renton seems a trifle chagrined by this. He shuffles uncomfortably, then focuses on the polisman. — But what did ye say tae get him tae come back inside?

The cop smiles earnestly. – I just told him that no matter how bad it all seemed right now, it’s just part and parcel of being young. That it gets easier. That he has to remember this and not throw it all away. That life is a gift.

My life with Lucinda. Wrecked. My big chance. Blown. All thanks to Nicksy!

Renton appears tae consider this for a bit. He’s daein the junky pose wi his airms wrapped around himself even though it isnae cauld. Skaggy fucker will draw mair polis heat than Nicksy, rattling away like that in public, and in front ay a copper. — Does it? Get easier, I mean, he asks urgently.

The cop shakes his heid. — Does it fuck; it gets bleedin worse. All that happens is that the expectations you have of life fall. You just get used to all the shit.

Renton looks as perturbed as ah feel, and we gaze at each other and realise that the cop isnae fucking joking. Ah think about poor Spud. Renton looks starkly at Bacon boy. — What if ye don’t get used to it, what if ye
can’t
get used to it?

The copper looks back up tae the flats, shrugs his shoulders and curls his bottom lip doon. — Well, that window’s still gonna be there.

Wound Botulism

TAM SORTAY AMBLES
intae the ward, sees us n comes right ower. He’s goat a worried look oan his coupon, but ah want tae shout, ah kin breathe, man, ah kin pure breathe! How barry is that?! Aye, ah want tae tell um they sais thit ah’m gaunny be awright, but ah cannae say nowt, likesay, cannae answer him back wi this tube in my throat. Aw ah kin dae is breathe. N Tam’s goat the picture, squeezin ma hand. So he starts gabbin, tellin us he’s been away fir a week, up north, likesay hillwalkin wi that Lizzie, n he came as soon as he could. Ah’m sortay thinkin, ah’d certainly be comin quick wi her n aw, even though ah ken that’s no what he means n it’s good ay him tae git here. Now he’s lookin at us aw sad n gaun, — Aw, Danny, ya daft cunt. What are we gaunny dae wi ye?

Ah’m pointin tae the tube, but then the duty nurse, Angie, comes in. Tommy asks her the Hampden Roar.

Ah kin hear Angie giein him the details, like she’s hud tae dae wi everybody thit’s come in tae see us. — He staggered into the A&E with double vision, slurred speech, drooping eyelids, and eye-muscle weakness.

Tommy’s noddin, then lookin at us as if tae say aye? And what’s new, exactly?

— The diagnosis has turned out to be wound botulism, Angie tells um.

— What’s that?

Angie shakes her heid. Brand new, Angie, even if she is a Jambo fae Sighthill! Or mibbe a Jambette if that’s what ye call lassie Jambos. But naw, that might be sexist. — Something very nasty, she tells Tommy. — But thankfully the doctors made a quick diagnosis, so we were able to offer appropriate treatment, including putting Danny on this ventilator and giving him botulinum antitoxin. We’re expecting him to make a full recovery.