That would have been cheeky. But better Dad eating it than leaving it behind. Good bread and cheese. Although the bread wasnt that good anyway, it had an unusual flavour and tasted sugary. The cheese would have made it okay.
Imagine an actual meal.
Saying no to an actual meal. Why would anybody do that? Murdo wasnt the huffy one there it was Dad. What point was he making? It had to be a point. It would have been good food too, hot food. Even just to see what it was. Different people ate different meals. Americans too so what would that have meant? Good gravy and mashed potatoes maybe, cabbage and peas. Sunday lunch. Roast meat and vegetables.
That was a real meal. Murdo and his father didnt have real meals. Not nowadays, not for Sunday lunch. They didnt have Sunday lunch. They didnt have any lunch; only like toast, and soup out a tin if ye could be bothered bloody opening it. They had their meal in the evening. It was usually okay. Sometimes they had a whole steak pie bought out the butcher. They halved it for Sunday and Monday. Dad did frozen roast potatoes and peas, sometimes carrots. There was usually a football match on television. Dad liked football. Murdo did too but not so much as him.
When they reached the bus station the taxi driver drove round the other side of the bus park area. There was a restaurant. A huge big place standing on its own ground. Menus were posted outside the door, long lists of grub, all different stuff. Dad peered inside through the restaurant window. It’s busy, he said. He checked his wristwatch. He peered in again. I think it’s too busy, he said.
Murdo saw in the window, saw empty tables. People were coming out the restaurant and others were going in. Mostly families, mostly black people. Round the side of the building Murdo saw two cars queuing for takeaways. There was a hatch to give in yer orders.
Do ye know what ye’re having? said Dad.
Hamburger and chips. Are we not going in?
It’s too busy.
Aye but it’s big inside. There’s empty tables.
I think we’re better with a carry-out son, just to be on the safe side. I know we’re in good time but ye never know.
Murdo waited by the front entrance while Dad placed the order, he strolled to the edge of the pavement. This street was parallel to the main road. If he crossed here, turned right and kept in a straight line, he would arrive at the Wild West shop and the pawnshop. The accordeon would still have been there. It wouldnt have sold since last night. Unless pawnshops opened on Sundays. Maybe they did.
When the food arrived they strolled round the block eating it. Dad didnt want to go inside the waiting room until the food was finished. They sat on a bench in the bus parking area. The hamburger was okay but the chips were the thinnest ever; not even crispy which would have made them bearable. The best bit was the bun. One of these wee pick-up trucks entered. Murdo watched it circle about. This place was reserved for buses. The truck reversed into the stance across the way. The horn tooted. The front passenger door opened and Sarah was there — Sarah! Murdo was onto his feet immediately. Dad it’s Sarah! And Joel too Dad look it’s me, it’s me they’re looking for!
Joel kept the engine running. Sarah saw him and sat back in the passenger seat leaving the door open. Murdo jogged across, laughing. She had a packet for him. A present of two CDs; one from her and one from Queen Monzee-ay. Gran was talking after you left, she said, about the gig. Would you want to sit in Murdo?
What?
She’s hoping you will, that’d be so cool.
She had a locket round her neck. Had she been wearing it this morning? Murdo couldnt remember. Just seeing it made ye smile. Where did she get it? Who gave her it? Was a picture inside? Ye saw them on television programmes to do with antiques. Miniature photographs were locked inside. When she talked she held onto it. Dad thinks your father could organise it, she said. Joel?
Yeah, said Joel. You come down spend the night. We’ll be with friends and they got room.
Murdo grinned, whatever they were talking about, the gig. He rubbed at the edge of his mouth.
Not next Saturday but the next again, said Joel.
Sarah said, I put a note in the packet there Murdo; got all the information. I wrote it in.
She paused. A guy in a bus-driver’s uniform was striding towards them. Trucks and private cars werent allowed. Over by the waiting area Dad stood by the door. Sarah spoke quickly: Gran says you played special and you played it to her — that is what she liked. Means you can play together. Makes it rich. You bring that. Dad says your Dad could organise it for the one night. Come down Saturday, go home Sunday morning. It would be so cool if you came Murdo.
The uniformed guy jerked his thumb at the exit. Joel acknowledged him, and whispered: We got to go.
You think you might? asked Sarah.
Eh…
Gran says so. It’s enough for her what you did this morning. She said you done enough and like you will do just fine. A friend is on guitar with us Murdo, just a wonderful guitar player, just the very best, so like the four of us Murdo, a one-off night for Gran. So so cool if you came, it would be wonderful Murdo, you will let her go, she said it, your playing, she can go someplace different.
Murdo scratched at the back of his head. Sarah reached her hand to his shoulder and gave it a wee sort of massage. His eyes shut in reflex. His face went red and he couldnt stop it, couldnt have stopped it. She just
like a zinging in his ears, it was just
The two CDs you got in the packet, she said, one is from Gran and it’s got her songs, them we’re doing. It’s from what we did this morning and maybe a couple more but not like surprises, she said to tell you, no surprises, just like what you know Murdo, that’s how Gran said it, the gig’s all here is what she means; no surprises. That was to tell you.
Okay.
You think you’ll come? It would be so wonderful.
Murdo laughed. But what was he laughing at? What even was he thinking? He didnt know that either. Sarah’s touch. His face was still red. He stared at her: the way her hair ended by her neck and shoulders, just that way the neck went into the shoulder and became the shoulder, that curve there. The locket in her fingers, then just like how she touched him, that was Sarah, jees, even just like touching.
Sarah was waving. Joel had released the handbrake, was turning the wheel and giving him a wave at the same time. Joel called out the window: Lafayette man!
Murdo held the packet. Joel waved a kind of salute and it was like a pal saying cheerio, that was him going away on a long trip. And Sarah there waving but not like cheerio forever. They would meet again. Definitely. Otherwise? Never again in his life so like that was the two of them forever and ever. How could that happen? He had only met them for one day and it was like they were true friends. Terrible.
The same woman from yesterday had been at the information and ticket counter. Dad didnt have change for the payphone and she gave him the use of her own cell phone to make the call. But he got through to Uncle John. Now they could relax. Murdo didnt open the packet until aboard the second bus. The first had been a short trip to get them someplace bigger. This second one was the longest. It was the bus after that where Uncle John was meeting them. Dad read his book until the light made it difficult. Finally he closed his eyes. Murdo waited a few minutes. When Dad looked to be dozing he peeled open the packet. It contained two CDs and a hand-written note. But before he could read the note Dad opened his eyes again. Murdo slipped the note back inside the packet.
The bus was half empty too. They could have had double seats for privacy instead of sitting together. But that was Dad; double seats for yerself was too “risky”; maybe one of them was a secret trapdoor and if it opened ye dropped down under the wheels.