I told your gaffer what’d happened earlier on, said one. He said to tell you to give him a ring and things would be okay. No wonder you were upset. I told him that, the gaffer. Can we come in?
Can we come in? the other said.
Aye.
Can we come in a minute Michael? said the other.
I opened the door wider and returned to bed. They were standing at the foot of it with their hats in their hands. Then they were lighting cigarettes. A smoke, asked one. Want a smoke?
Aye. I’m not getting things out properly. I’m just not getting out it all the way. The block as well. . it wasnt really the block.
Here. . The other handed me an already burning cigarette.
I had it in my mouth. I was smoking. Fine as the smoke was entering my insides. The manner in which smoke enters an empty milk bottle and curls round the inner walls almost making this kind of shinnying noise while it is doing the curling. The other was saying: Nice place this. You’ve got some good pictures on the wall. I like that one there with the big circles. Is it an original?
Aye, yes. I painted it. I painted it in paint, the ordinary paint. Dulux I mean — that emulsion stuff.
Christ that’s really good. I didnt know you were a painter.
It is good right enough, the other said.
Fingers. I used my pinkies; right and left for the adjacents. You know that way of touching the emulsion. That was what I was doing with the. . I was. . and the milk bottle, the milk bottle I suppose.
But dont let it get you down because the gaffer definitely did say you were to get in touch with him and it would be okay, about the job and that.
Aye, the other said. The thing is we’ll need to go to the station. Our serjeant wants to hear how it happened with Mr McKillop this morning. How you saw it yourself — witnessed it Michael. We can get a refreshment down there, tea or coffee. Okay? — just shove on your clothes and we’ll get going.
In the back seat of the patrol car one of them said: I’m not kidding but that painting of yours Michael, it was really good. Were the rest of them yours as well?
Aye, yes. I was doing painting. I was painting a lot sometimes. On the broo and that, before I started this job. In a sense though. .
The policeman was looking at me, between my eyes; onto the bridge of my nose. I closed the eyelids: reddish grey. I could guess what would be going on. The whole of it. The description. A block of matter wasnt it. It would be no good for them — the serjeant, the details of it, the thump of impact. What I was doing and the rest of it. Jesus God. I was painting a lot sometimes, I said to him.
What’s up?
Nothing. I’m just not getting the things, a hold. . sploshing about.
It had to upset you — dont worry about that.
Not just the block but. Not just the block that I was. . Ach.
I stopped and I was shaking my head. The words werent coming. Nothing at all to come and why the words were never. They cannot come by themselves. They can come by themselves. Without, not without. The anything. They can do it but only with it, the anything. What the fuck is the anything; that something. A particular set of things maybe.
Open the window a bit, the other said. Give him a breath of fresh air. Gets hell of a stuffy in here. And refreshments when we get there.
A wee room inside the station I was walked into. A policeman and a serjeant following. I was to sit at a table with the serjeant to be facing me. And he saying: I just want you to tell me what it was happened earlier on. In your own words Mr McLeish.
A block of matter, it was at my feet. I was. . I glanced at the serjeant to add, I couldnt be said to be there in a sense. A thump of impact and the block of matter.
A block of matter, he replied after a moment. Yes I know what you’re meaning about that. Mr McKillop was dead and so you didnt see him that way; you just saw him as a kind of shape — is that right, is that what you’re meaning?
You could — I mean I could, be said to — no. No, I was walking and the thump, the block.
You were walking to work?
Aye, yes.
And the next thing, wham? the body lands at your feet?
No. In a sense though you. . No, though; I was walking, thump, the block of matter. And yet — he was a short man, stumpy legs, longish body. And less then — less than, less than immediately a block of matter. Eyes. The objects that had been eyes. Jesus no. Not had been eyes at all. They were never eyes. Never ever had been eyes for the block. McKillop’s eyes those objects had been part of. Part of the eyes. And I looked into them and they were not eyes. Just bits — bits of the block.
Look son I’m sorry, I know you’re. . The serjeant was glancing at the policeman. And his eyes!
Your gaze is quizzicaclass="underline" I said.
Ho. Quizzical is it!
Aye, yes.
And what is my gaze now then?
He was looking at me then I was looking out at him. He began looking at the policeman. Without words, both talking away. I said, It doesnt matter anyhow.
What doesnt matter?
Nothing, the anything.
The serjeant stood up: I’ll be back in a minute. He went out and came back in again carrying 3 cartons of tea and a folder under his arm. Tea Mr McLeish, he said, breaking and entering 1968, 69. But you said nothing about that though eh!
I grasped the carton of tea.
So, he continued while being seated. Out walking at the crack of dawn and wham, a block called McKillop lands at your feet.
That’ll do, I said.
What’ll do?
The serjeant was staring at my nose. I could have put an index finger inside. He was speaking to me. It’s okay son breaking and entering has nothing to do with it, I just thought I’d mention it. We’re not thinking you were doing anything apart from going to your work. A bit early right enough but that’s when milk men go about. Mrs McKillop told us her end and you’re fine.
Serjeant?
What?
Nothing.
After a moment he nodded: Away you go home. It’s our job to know you were done in 68 69. A boy then but and I can see you’ve changed. A long time ago and Geordie tells me you’ve a steady job now driving the milk lorries and you’ve a good hobby into the bargain so — you’re fine. And I dont think we’ll need to see you again. But if we do I’ll send somebody round. Number 3 it is eh? Aye, right you are. The serjeant stood up again and said to the policeman: Let him finish his tea.
Okay serj.
Fine. Cheerio then son, he said to me.
Jim dandy
So grateful to awaken to morning, even seeing the state of the dump. Very early as usual after a drink the night before. Such an erection, the immediate need to urinate. Nothing at all in the house bar a scrimp of cheese whose wrapping paper alone turns me off. And black coffee it has to be. Huddled in front of the electric fire, the uncomfortable heat, my trouser cuffs hanging then burning my skin when I sit back. On the second smoke with the same coffee I feel better though it is possible she will die in childbirth and I to rear the kid by myself.
The newsagent has me stay for tea which we sip munching chocolate biscuits, she wanting to find out the latest information. But how will I manage to earn a living. How is it to be done. The child being taken away from me. Or me having to give it away.
Back upstairs with the morning paper and for some reason I brush my teeth and follow with a smooth shave — the Visiting. And I dress like that, then later have a bath in the public washhouse. And consider a haircut.
She is so pleased to see me: Looking so spruce. Proud of me in front of the other women. They see me as a man against their own. Maybe they dont. I nod to certain among them I recognise and also to the man three beds along who wants a boy definitely, if possible. Being told about the state of the dump cheers her up. She really wants to come home, I want that so much I dont speak. Neither of us thinks of returning a trio. On the bus home I think of that. And later I wander round to her mother’s with the news and borrow two quid and my dinner. And a couple of pints with my father-in-law. She’s a good lassie, he says to me, a bit like her maw in some ways but no too bad son. Always had her eye on you you know, even when yous were weans together. Aye, and me going to be a granpa as well.