Mick laughed aloud. ‘Bet you it’s Rothesay.’
‘Rothesay my knickers!’
‘Well why don’t you tell me?’
‘Bad luck! She says it’s bad luck.’
‘Jesus Christ I’m the best man.’
‘Ach she’s a bit superstitious Mick — tea leaves and that.’
‘Once they go to those games man you’ve got to watch it. Be holding spiritual parties behind your back whenever you’re out for a pint.’
‘Fuck off.’
‘Telling you man that’s the way it gets them.’
‘Her maw’s a bit of a seance.’
‘What?’
‘A medium I mean, her maw — bit of a medium.’
‘What? Christ!’
‘Ach she’s okay Mick, apart from that sort of stuff she’s not a bad woman. Likes me too I think.’
‘Ah well, more than that old bag of Betty’s, Christ you want to see her? Or you don’t want to see her! I never see her — dive out to the boozer whenever she shows up.’
‘Posh isn’t she?’
‘Yeah from Bearsden. Thinks I abducted her daughter.’ Mick shook his head. ‘No wonder her man dropped dead.’
‘Export?’ asked John, rising with his empty glass. Mick nodded. He returned with two whiskies along with the beer.
‘Halfs! Can you afford it?’
‘Aye! Loaded!’ John sat down. ‘I’ve got a few quid. For the reception and the stag night and that.’ He raised the whisky glass to make a toast. ‘Well probably the last drink I’ll have with you as a single man.’
‘Aye. Good luck!’ They drank about half the whisky; then Mick winked. ‘Fancy getting blotto man? I mean really steamboats, fancy?’
‘Suits me,’ John grinned. ‘What about you though?’
‘I’m okay!’ he shrugged. ‘Got about four quid. Plenty!’
‘Don’t mean that.’
‘What do you mean? Betty? You’re jesting! She accepted all that years ago. Happy to see me bevied once in a while — makes her feel safe.’
‘Well then Michael, long time since we got drunk together.’
‘Probably the last. .’
‘Don’t be so optimistic. Jesus Christ!’
‘Well, I thought you’d have more sense John, I really did. I mean you could’ve taken me as an example.’ He downed the remaining whisky and held up the empty tumbler. ‘First half for three months!’
John smiled. ‘Yeah, suppose I’ll have to quiet down to a certain extent — screw the head with the money and that.’ He paused. ‘Betty looks after your money, I know that but you’d only punt it anyway so it’s in your favour.’
‘I know,’ agreed Mick. ‘I don’t have any grumbles about finance. No, not at all. Freedom! I mean whenever you get bored you’re off — London or someplace — that’ll have to stop. You like to buy clothes — that’ll have to stop.’
‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘I know all that’s got to stop to a certain extent. .’
‘Certain extent!’ echoed Mick. ‘What’s this certain extent? Listen man I haven’t bought a pair of socks for six months. .’
‘You always were a smelly bastard.’
‘I’m dead serious John. Look. .’ he fingered the lapels of his jacket, ‘. . I bought this eighteen months ago — only one I’ve got apart from that glen-checked effort with the fifteen-inch bottoms. Can’t even pawn it man it’s pathetic.’ He stared mournfully into his empty whisky glass.
‘Surely it’s not that bad?’
‘Whit!’ shrieked Mick, causing several heads to look around. They burst out laughing. Mick had to loosen his tie and open the top button of his shirt. ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘same again?’
‘Now what about the stag night?’ John said when his companion returned.
‘Honestly man can’t make it. Would if I could.’
‘Okay then it’s finished.’
They remained drinking and reminiscing until the first bell rang at 9.50 p.m.
John said, ‘Listen Mick what you fancy doing now, I mean. .’ he shrugged, ‘. . we’re not really steamboats are we?’
‘No, you want to go for a meal or something?’
‘Well let’s get a carry-out first.’
‘Aye!’
‘I’ll get it and we can settle after,’ John said.
They travelled by taxi to John’s single end in Maryhill. Immediately on entering Mick collected the key and went out again to the communal stairhead lavatory. When he returned a bottle of malt whisky and six cans of Export lay neatly on the table.
‘Jesus Christ!’
‘Drink we want — not an appetizer!’ said John, searching in the cabinet for suitable cups.
‘Okay!’ cried Mick, taking two tumblers from his inside pocket and one half-pint glass from each side pocket. ‘My contribution!’ he said, smiling proudly.
‘Silly bastard, you’ll get caught one of these days.’
‘No chance man — used to call me Fingers Henderson at school. Not remember?’
‘How should I remember? You’re years older than me.’
‘Ah don’t give me that patter. You joined the Scouts long before me.’
‘You’re a liar man, you got tossed out before I left the Cubs.’
Mick smiled and sank into an armchair.
‘Pour us a drink,’ he said. ‘Can’t be bothered arguing with you.’
‘Cause you’re wrong.’
‘Up your arse.’
‘Ah well never mind.’ John handed him a whisky, and a beer.
‘Good luck son you have my sympathy.’ Mick gulped two-thirds of the whisky down. Then went on, ‘Listen why don’t you get off your mark. Get the first train to London in the morning before you start seeing ghosts with her and her mother? Cause I’m telling you man that’s what’ll happen.’
‘You really talk some piss at times.’
‘You don’t believe me?’
John did not reply. He leaned across and topped up his guest’s whisky.
‘If I had your chance,’ continued Mick, ‘I’d be off in a flash — bags packed and offski.’
‘Have I got to listen to this.’ He groaned staring at the ceiling, then said, ‘Anyway you could still do it for God sake. Why don’t you instead of telling me?’
‘Well the kid. .’
‘Ach you’re always telling me he’s up at your mother-in-law’s with Betty all the time!’
‘Yeah,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘You know something? I’ve thought about it a few times — but taking them with me, not just myself. Get away from old greeting face,’ he paused, ‘and Betty’ll end up the same way if she carries on the way she’s going.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Oh cause I can’t get a job and that,’ he lit a cigarette. ‘Every time I see the old bag she’s on at me about it. Really gets on my nerves, and Betty as well. I know she’s thinking the same thing nowadays. In fact I was up with them a month ago, at Bearsden and her maw started on. I sat watching the box not saying a word then Betty says there’s a lot of truth in what she’s saying. Jesus Christ!’ Mick laughed loudly. ‘I grabbed a nicker out her purse and went down the Black Bull, met a guy I knew and ended up at a party. Didn’t go home until the next morning.’
‘What happened?’
‘Her and the kid were still at Bearsden. Stayed the night, maw told her I was probably gone for good and good riddance. One miserable nicker! Not even enough for a taxi to Central Station! Jesus Christ.’ He looked so disgusted John could not help laughing. ‘All right for you with a job and that — not seen a fiver for months. Had four quid tonight. Most I’ve had since I’ve been on the broo!’
‘How’d you get it?’
‘Birthday! Aye!’ he laughed. ‘Betty’s maw — would you believe it? Gave her three quid for me, told her to buy me something cause I’d only fritter it away.’
‘After what you’ve been saying about her too.’
‘Ach she’s loaded. Should see her house man, like Elder’s Furniture Shop inside. Three quid! Gives her milk boy a bigger tip at Christmas. She really hates me.’