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?