Agnes Owens (25 page)

Davey's patience was broken. He flung the contents of his can straight at Tam's face, blinding him with lager.

‘Ye auld bastard,' roared Tam, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands, then unzipping the top of his anorak to wipe his neck as he wriggled about to ease his discomfort. ‘That lager's fuckin' frozen,' he added in an anguished tone. ‘As if I'm no' wet enough.'

Eventually he calmed down and glared at Davey as though wondering how best to deal with him. At that point Davey said, ‘Ye can have the golf ba's then.'

He took the golf balls out from his pocket and flung them on
the mud floor one by one, but only five of them. Tam looked down at the golf balls like a dog distracted by a bone. Then he glared back at Davey, clenching his fists.

‘Listen, you,' he began to say when a voice from the doorway spoke.

‘I say, you fellows, have either of you seen a red golf ball? I hit it in this direction and I'm damned if I can see it anywhere.'

The speaker wore a short yellow oilskin with its hood tied tightly under his chin. What could be seen of his face was fat and ruddy-cheeked. He could have been any age between thirty and forty, and he was holding a golf-club. Tam turned and snarled, ‘Naw, we huvnae,' the rage still plain on his face. The golfer's eyes narrowed when he saw the golf balls lying on the mud.

‘You've been stealing our golf balls, I see.'

‘We never stole them,' said Tam. ‘We found them and they're oors.'

The golfer laughed unpleasantly. ‘You can tell that to the manager for I'm going to report you as soon as I get back to the club.'

‘Report away,' said Tam with an equally unpleasant laugh.

‘In the meantime,' said the golfer, ‘you can give me up those golf balls and I might let you away with it this time. That is,' he wagged an admonishing finger at Tam, ‘if I don't ever see either of you up here again.'

He then addressed Davey, who had never moved off the bench, sitting with his empty can of lager in his hand and his legs crossed like a disinterested onlooker.

‘As for you, you're always up here pinching our golf balls. You definitely should be reported.'

He was about to say a lot more, when Tam tapped him on the shoulder with a look of disbelief on his face and said, ‘Dae you mean to say ye want me tae bend doon and pick up these ba's and personally haund them ower tae you?'

‘Exactly.'

‘That'll be right,' said Tam as he began to kick them one by one under the bench. ‘If you want them get them yersel'.'

‘Right,' said the golfer, his cheeks turning purple. ‘I will and you'll definitely be reported.'

As he bent down to retrieve them Tam gave him a shove. The golfer landed flat on the mud, his nose barely missing the bench. Tam let out a guffaw of laughter.

‘There wis nae need for that,' said Davey helping the golfer to his feet and making feeble attempts to wipe the mud off his chin. The golfer backed off outside the doorway shaking his fist.

‘Just wait,' he shouted, ‘I'll be back with my mates. You've both had it, I can tell you.' His voice became fainter as he vanished round the side of the hut.

‘I soon got rid o' him,' said Tam to Davey as if nothing amiss had happened between them. Then he froze and pointed outwards. ‘Christ, he's left his golf-club.' He picked it up and went outside to hit great chunks of moss into the air, calling to Davey, ‘This is a' right. I think I'll have a go roon the park wi' this club.'

Davey placed his empty can under the bench and came out into the open.

‘We'd best get crackin' afore these golfers come back.'

They were a good bit down the path when Tam said, ‘Christ, the golf ba's. I forgot them,' and ran back towards the hut.

Davey kept walking, hoping the golfers would meet up with Tam and beat him to a pulp. It didn't happen. Tam came back five minutes later, his pockets bulging.

‘Fancy forgetting them,' he said, laughing.

Davey looked behind. When he saw there was no one following, he said to Tam, ‘You walk on. I cannae keep up wi' ye.'

‘I'll walk slow,' said Tam. ‘I came oot wi' ye. I might as well go back wi' ye.' Then after a pause he reached into his pocket, adding, ‘You can take four ba's back and that'll be four each. That's fair enough, isn't it?'

‘Very fair,' said Davey, just wanting to get rid of Tam at all costs.

Tam went on, ‘Dae ye know whit I've been thinkin'?'

‘Naw – whit?'

‘I've been thinkin' I'll gie ma golf ba's and the club to the young yins that hit ba's roon the park. It's a bloody shame they cannae afford tae play on a real course. Dae ye no' think it would be a nice gesture?'

‘Very nice indeed,' said Davey after picking up a red golf ball halfway down the path. Tam didn't notice, being bemused with his thoughts.

They reached the fence, climbed over it and were crossing the fields when Tam said, ‘Dae ye know, I enjoyed masel' the day. It's a great wee hobby collectin' golf ba's. But the next time we go we should try that private course up at Lynmoor. We can always get the bus up. It's no that dear –'

He broke off as Davey began to run – not very fast though because of his wellingtons for one thing and his age for another. Tam caught up with him easily. He said, ‘Whit's wrang wi' you? Are you in a huff or somethin'?'

T
he middle-aged couple sat with their backs against the wall. Some drunks against the opposite wall shouted on them to come over.

‘Ignore them. They'll only be wanting some of our drink. I thought that fellow with the mouth-organ would have come back this evening. Still, it's early yet.'

‘What fellow?' asked the man.

‘The one who was here last Friday. Remember he played some good, old-fashioned tunes. There was one I liked in particular. It was kind of Mexican –'

‘I don't remember.'

‘At the time, you said you knew it. You were even singing the words –'

‘I don't remember,' said the man emphatically. ‘What's more important is this bottle's nearly empty. We'll have to get another.'

The woman pursed her lips. ‘There's plenty left in that bottle. Don't be so desperate –' She broke off when she saw the warehouse door slide open and a young woman stand within the gap.

‘Come in and close the door. There's a draught!' she shouted.

The young woman closed the door behind her then called out that she couldn't see a thing.

‘You will when you get used to it. How do you think we manage?'

The young woman made her way across the floor, sat beside them and explained that she'd only looked in because she'd heard voices. The older woman said, ‘That's all right. It's a free country. So what's your name?'

‘Jessica.'

‘That's a pretty name.'

The woman thought that seen close up this Jessica looked much more mature than from a distance, with her dyed-blonde hair and heavily pencilled eyebrows.

‘My name's Mavis and this is my friend Albert,' she said, gesturing towards the man. He had glanced briefly at the young woman when she came in but now sat staring at the floor. Mavis offered Jessica the bottle.

‘Thanks all the same but I'd rather have a temazepam or a fag if you've got one to spare.'

‘We've no temazepam but it so happens I've got fags,' said Mavis, bringing a packet of Embassy Regal from her coat pocket. She offered it to Jessica then Albert before taking one herself. After the initial puff she began to cough.

‘These fags will be the death of me.'

‘Don't get my hopes built up,' said Albert suddenly, winking at Jessica. She gave him a polite smile back. Mavis asked him why he looked so pleased all of a sudden when he hadn't had a civil word to say all day.

‘Me pleased?' he said, surprised. ‘What makes you think I'm pleased?'

‘Never mind,' she said, becoming downcast for no reason she could think of, then suddenly furious because Jessica had turned to the drunks on the opposite side of the warehouse and was actually smiling at them.

‘Here, don't you be giving them alckies the eye or they'll be over like a shot and we definitely don't want that. At least I don't.'

‘Are you talking to me?' said Jessica, her eyes glittering narrowly.

‘Who else?'

Jessica made to rise. ‘I'm not stopping to be insulted by the likes of you.'

‘Don't then.'

By this time Mavis had taken a strong dislike to this young
woman, who she thought looked more and more like a tart with every minute that passed. She turned to Albert.

‘You can see she's only out to cause trouble.'

‘Leave her alone and mind your own bloody business,' he said.

Rage boiled up inside her. She lifted the bottle and smashed it against the wall, splashing it with wine. Some dribbled to the floor. There was a silence in which the three of them stared at the small, dark-red puddle.

Finally Albert said, ‘There must have been at least a good third left in that bottle.' He stood up and Mavis thought he was going to strike her. Instead he went over to Jessica and asked if she would like to come outside.

‘If you want,' she said jumping up and taking his arm.

Open-mouthed, in a state of shock, Mavis watched them leave. By the time she'd pulled herself together and hurried out after them they had vanished. She hung about for a good while in the hope Albert would regret what he'd done and come back. Perhaps the whole thing had been his idea of a joke or even a punishment. Albert could be very devious. No one knew better than she how devious, but when time passed without any sign of him, she was forced to move away, unsure of everything.

Fifteen minutes later she entered the licensed grocer to buy another bottle. It was all she could think to do although she hadn't intended drinking again so soon.

‘Your friend, he is not with you this evening?' asked Abdul, who took a personal interest in the affairs of his customers.

Mavis explained that it appeared he'd left her for another woman.

‘But that is terrible. What has come over him?'

She then went on to say that it must be because of his age for according to what she'd heard, lots of men leave their wives or partners for younger women when they reach a certain age: the male menopause, it's called, and as the woman he'd gone off with appeared young enough to be his daughter, that's all she could put it down to.

‘Perhaps he will regret it later on,' said Abdul, shaking his head in dismay, then wrapping up the bottle in brown paper and giving it an extra twist at the top. Mavis always felt like telling him not to bother with the paper as it only got thrown away but she never did in case she hurt his feelings. She went out the door, promising to let him know of any further developments. Outside she threw away the paper, unscrewed the top of the bottle and took a long gulp of the wine. It immediately put new heart into her. She began to see the affair from a different angle. If Albert never came back she would be better off without him in many ways. She wouldn't have to put up with his foul moods when he had drunk too much, nor would she have to keep him going in it when she'd hardly enough for herself. Nor would she be obliged to have sex when she didn't feel like it. She hadn't felt like it for years, come to think of it. There were hundreds of things she wouldn't feel obliged to do in order to shut his mouth. Why, life without Albert might not be so bad after all. Instead of spending half her next giro on him, she would get something decent to wear from the Oxfam shop, then have her hair done – nothing fancy, a cut and blow dry would do her fine. Then after that (her heart pounded at the idea) she would go to the local housing department and ask for her name to be put down on the list for a council flat. It was time she got in off the streets and started having a decent life for a change.

As she walked along the pavement, her head quite dizzy with thinking about the great possibilities that lay ahead, she bumped into a woman who told her to watch where she was going then tried to push her off the pavement. Mavis's mood quickly changed.

‘Who do you think you're shoving?'

‘Scum,' said the woman over her shoulder, which depressed Mavis. She recognised the truth of the statement but if Albert had been with her the situation would never have arisen. Coming to a row of tenements, she paused outside an entrance wondering whether to have a drink inside rather than risk taking it in the
open, when a young man came from the building and told her to beat it.

‘I was only looking for an address,' she said as he brushed past. He exuded an air of violence which left her dithering and too frightened to move. Her previous confidence vanished. The truth of the matter, she told herself sadly, was that on her own she could scarcely walk two steps without somebody picking on her. What a fool she'd been! She'd just have to throw her pride to the wind and go and find Albert then persuade him to come back to her. She'd buy him all the drink he needed and he could bring Jessica with him if that's what he wanted. Anything was better than being on her own. He couldn't be far away. She'd try the old warehouse first. The chances were he might be there already, waiting for her to bring along the bottle.

‘Albert,' she called, entering the warehouse and leaving the door open so that she could see her way. There was no answer but it was still early, perhaps not eight o'clock yet. She reached the spot where they usually sat, and took a small sip of wine, assuring herself she would make it last until Albert arrived. Otherwise he wouldn't be pleased. To pass the time she smoked three cigarettes. After finishing the third she'd become so jumpy that without thinking she put the bottle to her mouth and took a long swig and became so fuddled that she forgot all about Albert and Jessica. The only thing in her mind now was the Mexican tune the man with the mouth-organ had played the previous Friday. The words that had eluded her before came into her head quite easily.