Demo (32 page)

God, I've no heard her sayin that afore! She must a got right into all the religious stuff.

Jed gies her a kinda questionin look. We'll need the whole panoply of gods for this one, I think. The whole jing bang.

Hail Mary, Mother of God, I think to mysel, pray for us now in the hour of our need.

Soon I see the aluminium roof of the Armadillo glintin in the sun and hunners a folk all millin about. The start a the march looks like it's been there for ages already. When we come right up to the open bit round the conference centre, I notice all the polis in their fluorescent yellow jackets.

Fucksake! Danny says. Must be the entire membership a the Strathclyde Police Force here the day.

I think he must be right; I've never saw so many polis althegether in one place.

To protect our glorious leader, no doubt, Julian says.

That's what my da calls him too, I says.

Danny draws me a dirty look.

Wow! Look at that grass, Farkhanda says. Have you ever seen grass that green?

No in February, I says. Must be fake.

That's a good one, Jed says. The greener grass is always fake; the evergreen illusion. He chuckles to hissel. Jed's dead deep sometimes. You don't really know what he's talkin about.

Anyway, here we are. It'll be ages before the speakers start but. At least there's mair space – for a wee while, until the rest of the demo gets here. I turn and take a gander round about me. It gies me a chance to look at Julian without him noticin. He's standin wi his shoulders hunched and another rollie in his hand. He must be cold; he's chitterin slightly. He could a done wi his big parka the day, no that wee thin combat jacket. The corner of his black and white Arab scarf is stickin out the pocket. His hair's the colour a glass in the sun. Like that spun glass.

Farkhanda comes and stands beside me. I can feel the heat comin off her in waves; her face is dead flushed.

Alright? I says.

She gies me a kinda sharp look. Why should I no be?

Just askin.

Hey, Julian, she says, what do you think of Clare's dreadlocks?

Julian turns to us and the look he gies takes us both in at once. Very fetching, he says. His eyes stay on me a bit longer.

How d'you like
his
haircut but? Danny says. No think he's the spittin image of
Oor Wullie
? All he needs is a bucket to sit on.
Oor Wullie, Your Wullie, A'body's Wullie.

Who is Oor Willie? Some arcane Scottish folk legend?

He doesny look nothin like him, I says. You don't look nothin like him. Julian gies me a quick smile.

I keep my eyes off Danny, and turn away again to watch the marchers comin into the square. Folk are getting fed up
holdin up their banners and placards, but you can still read a few.
NO BLOOD FOR OIL; BLIAR!; BUSH THE FATHER KILLED MY SISTER, BUSH THE SON IS KILLING ME; IF WAR IS THE ANSWER, WHAT IS THE QUESTION?
There's a woman that looks like a granny, white hair, walkin around carryin a wooden tray in front, with a strap to hold it on. The tray's covered in sandwiches. A card on her chest says,
MAKE PIECES, NOT WAR
. Reminds me of the fairy cakes! She's goin about offerin a piece to anybody that wants one. I wouldny mind one mysel; I'm quite hungry. Jed is pure psychic; I see him goin up to her and choosin a handful a sandwiches. He offers her money, but she laughs, willny take it, shakes her white head.

Farkhanda, he says when he comes back, you can have first choice. Most of them are roast ham, but there's an egg and a cheese one.

I've no really noticed afore, but Jed's quite good-lookin; in fact, without his glasses, you would say he's definitely handsome. You canny hardly see the scar now where that guy Malcolm kettled him. And his ponytail – that makes him look different too.

Thanks, she says, could I have the cheese?

Rest of yous alright with ham? I would prefer the egg.

Don't tell me there's another veggie in our midst! Julian says. Heaven forfend.

I propose a competition, Danny says. He takes a piece off Jed, and stuffs half of it in his mouth right away, chews it fast and swallows it. One pound prize for the best slogan spotted.

So we all start shoutin and pointin at once.

BLAIR!
DON'T BE A PUPPET TO A MUPPET
!

POVERTY IS A WEAPON OF MASS DESTRUCTION
.

Look at that yin.
BLAIR STOLE MY HOMEWORKAND STARTED A WAR
.

MAN'S INHUMANITY TO MAN MAKES COUNTLESS THOUSANDS MOURN. ROB'T BURNS
.

I've seen a good one, Farkhanda says.
VOGTS OUT
!

In the end we decide no to stay for the speakers. We'd already been hangin about for over an hour and marchers were still comin into the big square. I stood up on a concrete bollard and I seen Shenaz and her pals, so Farkhanda finally went and joined them. It was kinda obvious she would rather a came wi the rest of us, but there was no way. She'd a been in deep shit wi her family if she had. Serious soapy bubble. In a way I was glad when she went, cause it was getting to be a strain. Knowin that Shenaz would be lookin for her; knowin that bein wi me was against the will of Allah or somethin. She telt me one time that some Muslims think all Western lassies are whores and prostitutes. That made me feel horrible. How d'you think I feel? Farkhanda says.

I watch her startin to weave through the crowd towards where I seen Shenaz; her wee black figure tryin no to collide wi marchers millin about and weans runnin. She looks a lot mair unsure of hersel than she done on the march. You can see that the long black coat doesny make her feel invisible at all. No yet, anyway. It makes her stand out mair; people are starin at her, when she goes by. I canny stand it. I run to catch up wi her and start walkin beside her. She turns round, surprised.

Where you going? she says.

Thought I'd come and say hello to Shenaz.

She stops and faces me. No, don't, Clare. Please! she says. And I'm like kinda taken aback at how anxious she sounds.

OK, OK, don't worry. I won't then. I'll just walk alang wi you a wee bit.

You don't have to.

I want to.

Please yourself.

I think she's mad at me cause she doesny really want to go wi them and she knows I know, and that makes her even mair annoyed.

Anyway, I was gonny thank you again for lettin me wear your braid.

That's alright.

It's beautiful.

Don't mention it.

Will you come round themorrow and sew it on properly?

Maybe.

And we could do our
Sunset Song
essays thegether.

I said maybe, Clare. She's stopped again and it's obvious she doesny want me to come any further.

Alright, I says. See you on Monday, if no themorrow. And I leave her there.

The other reason I'm glad she's away is cause a Julian and what might happen later.

I walk back through all the folk and when I'm gettin close to where we were standin, beside the bushes, near the burger van, I'm like, Oh no! There's my ma and da. I half think of hidin till they're away, but they've seen me already.

My ma's talkin to Danny. She's a lot happier than I've saw her for months. She nearly looks young. Danny's turned half away fae my da and my da's talkin to Jed. Julian's standin a wee bit to the side, lookin spare. But when I come right up to them, the exact same moment, I hear my ma saying to Julian, And how's Laetitia?

How does she know about Laetitia!

Oh, she's over the worst of it now, I imagine.

Worst of what? I'm thinkin.

When's the baby due? my ma says.

July, Julian says. Mid to late July.

Baby!

Danny must a saw the look on my face, cause he says, Did I no tell you, Clare? Sorry. Aye, Laetitia's pregnant; nearly four months.

I look at Julian. He's starin down at his feet on the cement path.

I want to sit down but there's nowhere to sit.

I want to take my placard and whack him right across his stupid face.

I want him to put his arms round me and sing Bob Marley songs.

I want to be home in my own room, sittin on my bed, lookin in my granny's mirror.

My da comes forward. You alright, hen? You look a bit pale. Better get you hame.

No, Danny says, she's comin back to the flat wi us. Postdemo party. She'll be fine wi some grub in her belly.

Why's he sayin that? Is he tryin to protect me? Does he no realize? Why's he sayin that?

That what you want, hen? my da says.

I notice my ma eyein me up, tryin to kid on she's no.

Aye, I'm fine, Da, I says. I'm goin to the flat for a wee while. I'll no be late.

He pulls a tenner out his pocket and hands it to me. Make sure you take a taxi hame, he says.

We come up fae Finnieston and walk through the park. The demo's startin to disperse now; a lot a folk are walkin away fae the Armadillo in this direction. Julian's went off somewhere to get more tobacco. That's what he says, anyway. The sun's still shinin and I'm frozen. Jed's talkin to me but I canny concentrate on what he's sayin. Somethin about the birds you can see further up the river.

Aye, he says, there's a heron and cormorants and goosanders. He's countin off on his fingers. Mallards, moorhens. I'm told there's kingfishers too, but I've no seen them yet.

Danny's been quiet walkin along, but he says, Kingfishers? In the middle a Glasgow? You sure you've no been pallin about wi the junkies down there? Gettin a hit aff them? Away wi the birds and the bees?

No, seriously, he says. Kingfishers. Ask anybody who's down there a lot: parkies, guys fishin, dog walkers. They'll all tell you. There's kingfishers nestin along the Kelvin. You ever seen one, Clare?

What?

A kingfisher.

A kingfisher?

Yes.

No.

Would you like to?

What?

See one.

A kingfisher?

Aye.

Suppose so, I says. I get the feelin Jed's tryin to cheer me up, but I canny picture a kingfisher. I canny imagine the colours. No the now.

They're probably all aff their faces down there, Danny says.

Jed looks at him. Who?

The guys fishin. The parkies. The fuckin dog walkers.

Your cynicism ill becomes you, Mr Kilkenny.

I'm tired a this conversation. I want to be on my own to think. I walk away fae them a wee bit. Folk fae the demo are all travellin in the same direction through the park. The path we're on comes near the river at this point. I look ower the railin at it; I don't see any birds. Just dirty brown water wi
the usual junk. Across on the other bank, there's some a they giant hogweed, the dried-out stalks a them, about six feet high wi the spray of wee jaggy stars at the top. You're no meant to touch it; they telt us at school a couple a years ago. It's poisonous. There's an old pram sittin on an island in the middle of the stream, just sittin in the middle of the river, the water flowin by, draggin long grass like green hair in the current. Wonder how it got there. Wonder where the baby is that used it last.

A baby!

We're just finishin the carry-out when Julian comes in, a roll-up in one hand and a bottle a wine in the other.

Any nosh for me? he says.

You, ya spongin bastard!

In exchange for some excellent weed? He waves a wee poly bag wi some green stuff in. Same colour as his combat jacket.

I keep my head down and my eyes on my chicken korma and dip a piece of naan in the sauce. It's better than the curries you get in the scheme, a lot a flavours I've no tasted afore. I dip and dip the naan till it's soaked up as much sauce as possible, but I canny lift it to my mouth to eat it. I leave it in the gravy and lick my fingers instead. The napkins you get in they places are no any better in the West End; wee thin things that fall to bits as soon as they get wet. I take my packet a hankies out my bag and wipe my hands on one a them instead.

By the time I look up again, Julian's went and got a plate fae the kitchen and he's helpin himsel to saffron rice and lamb tandoori and dhal and they lady's finger things – okra, Jed called them. He sits down on the red sofa, at the other end fae me and starts eatin. Jed hands him a bottle a beer.

Wonderful! he says. Heaven. I could smell this coming up
the stairs. Started the juices going before my key was in the lock.

Aye, Ali's is the best, Danny says.

I try to look sideyways at Julian wi my head still down, keepin my dreads out the gravy. The gel in his hair's started to wear off and it's no stickin up as much, but it's still straight and spiky. And bleached. It makes his face look as if it's got mair colour in it and his eyes are darker. He takes a mouthful a curry and holds his bottle up.

Nay offence, Tish, as they say in Glasgow, but it's good to be able to eat a curry without the sound of vomiting as background music.

Jed and Danny both hold their bottles up.

I'll drink to that, Jed says.

Aye, thank fuck she's ower that stage, Danny says. I thought she was gonny disappear althegether, she got so thin.

I'm like, shocked. At Jed especially; he ayeways comes across as dead understanding.

Danny looks at me. You no want the rest a your chicken, Clare?

Aye, I do, I says. I'm havin a break.

Keep your hair on; only askin.

So, what did you think of the demo, Clare? Julian says. How does it compare with Florence?

I glance up at him quick, but his face doesny give nothin away. Maybe it's a straight question. It feels a bit like at school, when a teacher expects you to gie an intelligent answer, but no much comes into your head. I shrug my shoulders.

Don't know. I think I had mair hope at the one in Florence. Like, that maybe it could achieve somethin. I look at Jed when I'm talkin, no Julian.

Jed says, I thought today was hopeful. No matter what happens – and I don't have any illusions that war will be averted; Blair's hitched his wagon to Dubya's horse and they
cowboys decided long ago – but, no matter what happens, there's a different mood.