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Authors: James Kelman

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BOOK: The Burn
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You go away Catherine, the invalid commanded.

His wife looked at him as if she was trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Go a message, he said. I want to have a word with the young fellow. The invalid had taken one of his hands off from the contraption now and was waving at her to leave and you felt you hoped he
wouldnt fall down and hurt himself his hands were so shaky. What could he want maybe it was a male problem or something to discuss or else to give him a hand in some way, shave him or something the
old guy because he needed a shave he looked like he hadnt shaved for a couple of days, and if his hands were suffering from too many twitches

The old woman was now pulling on her overcoat, a quite smart one for rainy weather, pink and grey and her legs were short. Some people had funny short legs thank the Lord it wasnt him he couldnt
imagine it, walking down the road having to step over puddles, big puddles with your wee toty stride, how could you manage it it would be so bloody difficult you had to admire her, she was so
strong in the face of the world, that was a trait though in old women he found, they were so brave, his grannie was like that; plus his other one who was now dead; they had come through the mill
– this old woman especially with her invalid husband, having to take care of him what the hell did he bloody want! My God he didnt even look worried, no really. And when the door closed
behind his wife he started gesticulating. Sit down! he commanded, imperious old bugger, glancing roundabout and then manoeuvring his way to a chair nearby the window. He got himself seated and
sighed deeply. And he looked at Edward.

Edward wanted to have something to say but there was nothing, there was nothing at all and his brow became furrowed.

See young fellow what it is, I’ve got a confession to make and I dont want Catherine to know.

Edward felt his head go funny at this but he kept his eyes open and concentrated hard.

Poor old sowel she’s got enough on her plate, she works hard and she looks after me you see, she looks after me. The invalid breathed in sharply, then sighed. Edward had been watching him
very attentively and he too breathed in sharply but via his nostrils and it was terrible. The smell was a fuisty one of dirt, and it was definitely coming from the old bloke. A fuisty smell of dirt
– or excrement! Shit, old shit. God! Maybe he needed his bum cleaned and was too proud to tell his wife. Oh dear. Oh dear. Edward just couldnt cope with that, he couldnt, he just couldnt cope
with it if he was maybe not able to attend to himself for heaven’s sake did they not have home-helps, had the government stopped home-helps now and strangers were getting called in to wipe
folk’s bums, old invalid people who couldnt manage it theirselves and were wanting to hide it from their nearest and dearest so the neighbours, now having to get called in. He ran his hand
across his forehead, opened his eyes widely.

You see young fellow I’ve got this confession to make. What’s your name? No, dont tell me, it’s best I dont know. Now pay attention: before they invalided me out my job of work
I used to be involved in what some people would call malpractice; some other people would call it sabotage and other people again, well, they would call it something else all the gether. What I
used to do you see was the spanner-in-the-works carry-on; I used to stop the line. Understand me? That was what I did, wherever it was I was working, I used to bring things to a halt – I
tried to anyway. That’s the shape my politics took and that’s the shape they were; and I cant help it and nor did I ever want to help it, and I’ve never wanted to change things
neither. But as a way of living my life so to speak what it means is I’ve aye had to do what my conscience tells me. There’s no an in-between. Now . . .

The invalid stopped there and he studied Edward as if wanting to make sure who it was he was telling all this.

But Edward’s face was expressionless.

Now the last place I worked in was a firm by the name of eh Gross National Products which, as you probably guess, is a made-up name. I dont want to tell you the real one because you never know
you might be a police informer.

Edward smiled after a moment, shaking his head.

The invalid’s hands started waving about furiously: But never mind that never mind that – and never mind me neither because I get nervous and I get agitated.

And the way he pronounced ‘agitated’ sounded funny although Edward didnt acknowledge this. And the old invalid was looking at him with maybe a bit of impatience or something maybe
just wanting to know who it was he was confiding in, because how do you know who you’re talking to in this world you dont, you just dont know, it could be anybody; it was the very same when
you were out on the road trying to talk your way into some office or garage or factory. Even when you were down at Head Office with the other sales-teams you werent free, you had to watch it; you
had to say nothing and keep your distance while at the same time try not to appear too stand-offish because that was bad points and you knew they were always watching and taking notes –
especially if your figures werent that good, if they had been on the decrease, during the last four-week period even although the area he had to work was nothing like the density of other areas,
and you would expect such things to be taken into consideration, but no, they were treated like they just didnt matter, which was a strange way to run a business. But the selling game was a funny
business. That’s exactly what it was, a funny business; the way it operated.

which happened to me, said the invalid.

What

something that I ended up doing as well and it’s caused me a lot of pain and suffering, a hell of a lot . . . The invalid smiled, he waved at his contraption: I wasnt always pushing one of
them about you know.

Edward nodded. What is it you call it?

But the invalid just gave an impatient shake of the head and continued talking: Now what happened you see, I’ve got to fill you in, I was keeping a low profile because they were after me,
I’m talking about the bigwigs, they were out to get me. And they were using a fellow who was a mucker, a pal. Mind you he was a waster the same man, if I’m to be honest about it, and
you dont like saying that about anybody never mind when he’s your mate. But this yin was the sort that winds up changing colours, he joined the enemy, he was a turncoat. That happens a lot in
this life: traitors.

Edward stared hard at the old invalid, concentrating on each word he spoke, noting the way his head twitched this way and that, he looked like he was wanting a place to spit into:

Bad bastard that he was. And to think you took him into your home and gave him your hospitality. And his wife and mine became friends too and my Catherine, poor old sowel, she used to look after
their weans like they were her own. But that was who it was, the very one they sent to get me. They had chose him because they knew we were close. Ahh! It’s a world of conspiracies out
there.

Pardon?

But I soon knew the situation anyway. Too many ears to the ground young fellow . . . You probably dont know that yet but you will soon enough. Wait till you get to my age, then you’ll find
out. The invalid winked and tapped the side of his nose. Then he smiled, waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. But there’s much more you’ve got to understand and I’m no wanting
to get us bogged down in the petty stuff. Come and sit next to me so I dont have to bellow.

I’m fine here though.

No but I want to tell you a secret young fellow, and walls have ears.

What?

The invalid squinted at him: I thought you’d have kenned that by now, you being a student and aw that.

But I’m no a student, replied Edward, frowning, I’m in the selling game. I’m just studying for a work test, it’s a kind of I dont know what you would call it, mainly
it’s product memorising I’ve to do. I think it’s what’s known as a Re-training Schedule. In reality it’s to do with regrading, if you dont pass it you stay where you
are. And that’s like a demotion. In fact it is a demotion. In fact, this test isnt really to pass onto greater things at all, it’s just to avoid the pit.

The pit?

Yeh.

The old woman says you were a student.

Did she? I wonder how she thought that.

She’ll have keeked in the letter-box and seen you at your lessons.

Pardon?

Cause that’s how she does it. She’s good so she is. You just wouldnt have heard her at all but what she’ll have done she’ll have lifted your letter-box and just looked in
to see what you were doing. The invalid chuckled. I aye wished I’d had her for a partner at the ‘spanners’! She would’ve been rare at it – better than me. And I would
say I was one of the best though as a masculine model my limitations were there, they had to be. Masculine models and limitations masculine models and limitations. These facets we are born with
– faculties I mean – man. Man is born with definite limitations. We attempt to set out and change the world but then we get bogged down in the microcosmic ephemera of getting to B from
A. You have your goal. You go to college and you take a wee look about. You think the road ahead is signposted – not so much signposted as like the conditions are set for you. You find a lass
and the two of you set out as partners in the face of a hostile and aggressive world; and that includes your parents. Because the harsh truth is that most parents hate their children, just like
Romeo and Juliet, wherefore art thou, they hate them actively and discourage them from doing the things they want, if you want to change the world you’re no allowed to, they dump you down so
you have to take what you’re given, and then you end up with things you dont really want but are just settling for and it isnt your fault at all because you are doing your best, trying your
damndest to please and to settle down properly with your loved one in your nest, when you are married, when you are given the proper chance, the nettle, grasping that opportunity

Edward had a look on his face, it was a smile, his eyelids were closed and he shook his head. An overwhelming sensation of relief. Utter and total relief. Oh Lord, Lordie Lordie, it was so good
sitting there, just sitting there, so good just sitting there – here, I find it so relaxing, he said, opening his eyes and grinning at the invalid: I just wish I had a cigar! But no, honest,
being serious about it, it’s just so soothing, for my head – and for my brains, giving them a rest like this, not having to worry about things, you see my fiancée eh was coming,
she’s about due to come.

Ah . . . ! So you’ve a fiancée, that’s even better. That shows you’re responsible. I like to see responsibility in a young fellow. What’s your name?

. . .

You’re no going to tell me eh?

I told you before.

Did you?

Yeh, it’s Edward Pritchard, I dont mind you knowing at all.

The invalid nodded, and he said slowly, Edward Pritchard. He pursed his lips. My name’s Robert Parker, Bobbie – like the boy who used to play for Falkirk or was it the Hearts?
– big right back if you remember, I think he got a cap for the Scottish League team, maybe even the full national one.

Edward shook his head.

Before your time I dare say. The invalid continued speaking: There’s a confession I need to make you see. I need to make it because I’ve got a feeling something impending is going to
happen . . . I dont know like it’s as if maybe you think you’re about to get knocked down by a lorry or a bus or a taxi –

Pardon?

Well you see sometimes they go careering down the road and they dont see you if you’re an invalid, you’re walking that slow they fail to take you in on their line of vision. And you
cant but take a stride without doing so with that very reckoning and you’re darting a look this way and that or else trying no to, you just keep your face fixed to the front and try no even
to listen for the roar of the engine – the thing that’s coming to mow you down.

My God!

Yeh.

That sounds like an awful nightmare. Edward’s left hand went to his face and he covered then rubbed at his left eye.

It’s like they think you’re a pillar or a post.

Surely no!

Aye! The invalid waved his hand, then signalled the need for silence and he whispered, Come here till I tell you. You’re no a religious young chap, are you?

I believe in God if that’s what you mean.

Do you? The invalid sat back on his chair and he studied Edward.

Well I hope I do I mean I hope I do . . . And I’m no ashamed of it. I used to be an agnostic. But no now, I’m back to believing. Edward gazed at the invalid and suddenly felt very
sad. His parents were getting old and no doubt they would be dead eventually, just like everybody else, his good old grandpa as well. And it wasnt long since Deborah’s grannie had died, he
remembered the funeral quite vividly, the two sisters taking charge of doing the food, and they did it really terrific, rolls and different scones and things, bowls of nuts and crisps –
better than if they had gone for a meal in a hotel.

My parents are churchgoers, he told the invalid. But I’m no. When I was a boy I was, but I’ve no been for years apart from when my fiancée’s grannie died last March. I
felt a hypocrite . . . Edward stopped and frowned: Did I though? Maybe I didnt. Maybe I just thought I should have felt a hypocrite, because that’s . . . He glanced at the invalid: I’ve
been involved in some things recently that I think really are sins, to be honest, I dont mind telling you Mister Parker and I can only hope I’ll be forgiven, I hope nothing’s going to
get held against me although if it does I’ll no complain, if I’ve to suffer a chastisement. If I can only make up for it, maybe by doing my test properly tomorrow, if I can only manage
that.

He punched his right fist into his left palm and cried: That’s all, that’s all I want!

You will pass it, the invalid said.

What!

You will. You’ll pass your test and you’ll get your promotion.

Edward stared at him and was immediately suspicious. Somewhere there was a line between making a slight fool of somebody and genuine fellowship and good company like the way at the fortnightly
sales-team talks when the guys made jokes about one another and you didnt quite were sure, you never quite

BOOK: The Burn
7.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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