Minutes after they had finished the cigarettes the glass door opened again, and the two younger doormen appeared and they could be heard quite distinctly, saying cheerio to somebody else — the oldest doorman probably. Then one of them noticed Oanny, Fat Stanley and Victor and he whispered something and the other one looked over. The pair continued along towards the car park and one of them laughed.
No point asking them anything! muttered Oanny. He stared after them. You wonder how they ever get a fucking job like that dont you. .
The three of them continued sheltering in the doorway. It was Fat Stanley who broke the silence. He said: Is that the rain off?
Oanny made no answer.
Still fucking drizzling, muttered Victor.
What time does that café in the Central Station open?
Soon. How?
Aw nothing. I was just wondering. . Fat Stanley shrugged.
You any money?
Nah — couple of coppers just.
Victor nodded.
Enough for a tea, I suppose. Fat Stanley glanced at him: You skint?
Aye.
Fat Stanley glanced at Oanny but Oanny was gazing off out the doorway and seemed not to notice. And he said to Victor, Naw I was just wondering about maybe taking a wee walk or something, just to pass the time, stretch the legs and that. .?
Victor nodded very slightly.
Then Oanny moved suddenly. I’m away, he said.
What?
I’m away home.
How d’you mean?
Ach! Oanny shook his head. This is fucking murder! He sidled past Fat Stanley, out onto the pavement. Yous two waiting on?
Victor looked at him.
Are yous?
How what’re you doing? asked Fat Stanley.
I told you, I’m going home. It’s a long hike and I might as well start now.
Aye but Oanny I mean. .
Oanny shrugged. What’s the fucking difference, he said. Either we win or we get fucking beat. Wait here and we’ll wait forever.
Aye but what about Alec and that?
Oanny shook his head and he walked off, away from the direction of the car park, his shoulders hunched up and rounded. The other two watched him go, their heads poking out from the doorway.
This man for fuck sake
This man for fuck sake it was terrible seeing him walk down the edge of the pavement. If he’d wanted litter we would’ve given him it. The trouble is we didn’t know it at the time. So all we could do was watch his progress and infer. And even under normal circumstances this is never satisfactory: it has to be readily understood the types of difficulty we laboured under. Then that rolling manoeuvre he performed while nearing the points of reference. It all looked to be going so fucking straightforward. How can you blame us? You can’t, you can’t fucking blame us.
Half an hour before he died
About half an hour before he died Mr Millar woke up, aware that he might start seeing things from out the different shapes in the bedroom, especially all these clothes hanging on the pegs on the door, their suddenly being transformed into ghastly kinds of bodies, perhaps hovering in mid air. It was not a good feeling; and having reflected on it for quite a few minutes he began dragging himself up onto his elbows to peer about the place. And his wrists felt really strange, as if they were bloodless or something, bereft of blood maybe, no blood at all to course through the veins. For a wee while he became convinced he was losing his sanity altogether, but no, it was not that, not that precisely; what it was, he saw another possibility, and it was to do with crossing the edge into a sort of madness he had to describe as ‘proper’ — a proper madness. And as soon as he recognized the distinction he began to feel better, definitely. Then came the crashing of a big lorry, articulated by the sound of it. Yes, it always had been a liability this, living right on top of such a busy bloody road. He was resting on his elbows still, considering all of it, how it had been so noisy, at all hours of the day and night. Terrible. He felt like shouting on the wife to come ben so’s he could tell her about it, about how he felt about it, but he was feeling far too tired and he had to lie back down.
In with the doctor
By one of those all-time flukes I landed head of the queue at the doctor’s surgery. Somebody nudged me on the elbow eventually and pointed to the wee green light above the door. I laid down the magazine and walked across. The doctor opened it and said, You first this morning?
Yes sir, I says.
Yes sir! It was really incredible I could have said such a thing; I dont think I’ve called anybody sir in years. But the doctor took it in his stride, as if it was normal procedure; he ushered me inside, waiting to shut the door behind me. Then he walked side by side with me, leaving me at the patient’s chair while he continued on round the desk to sit on his own one. He was quite a worried looking wee guy and it occurred to me he probably liked the drink too much. His face scarlet and his hair was prematurely white. He had on a white dustcoat, the kind hospital orderlies usually wear, but underneath it he was wearing an expensive three-piece suit. He sat watching me and frowned.
What’s up? I says.
Aw nothing, nothing at all. Fancy a coffee?
Aye, ta, that’d be great. I sniffed and looked at the carpet while he rose to fill an electric kettle across at the sink. When he noticed me glance over he nodded. Aye, he says, this job, it’s worse than you think. He grinned suddenly, he reached to plug in the kettle, then returned to the chair. I was reading that yin of Kafka’s last night, ‘The Country Doctor’ — you read it?
Eh aye, I says.
Gives me the fucking willies. . He shook his head: What about yourself?
Well, naw, no really.
It doesnt bother you!
Eh, no really.
He smiled. In this job you sometimes fall into the trap of thinking everybody’s a doctor.
Pardon?
Naw, he says, you start talking to folk as if they’re doctors.
Aw aye.
He frowned and turned to gaze at the electric kettle, he began muttering unintelligibly. Then he says, Probably I stuck in too much water and jammed the fucking thing! He shook his head and sighed loudly but it sounded a wee bit false. He got up off his seat and went to the window, he raised it and put his head out, and he whistled: Whsshhle whhssht!
The next thing the young lassie who works in the snackbar appeared. Her name was Brenda and she was roundabout 18, 19. Blonde-haired, but sometimes a bit sharp-tongued for my liking. He says to her, A piece on sausage hen, and a cup of coffee. Then he glanced at me: What about yourself?
Naw, no thanks.
He shrugged. Hey I hope it’s ready the now Brenda!
Aye it’s ready the now! she says.
Ah you’re a lifesaver, a lifesaver!
So they tell me, she says.
He left the window ajar while she was away. The snackbar was parked permanently in the waste ground next to the surgery and it wasnt long till she reappeared. When she gives him the stuff she says, You can hand me the money in later on.
Aye alright.
I could hardly believe my ears. And I was thinking to myself, Aye ya bastard! if you werent a doctor! Frankly, I was beginning to get annoyed. Here he was having a teabreak and ben the room a pile of folk was sitting there waiting. And then another thing started annoying me as well. How come he was taking me into his confidence like this? At best it seemed as if he was making a hell of a lot of assumptions about me, and I didnt like it very much.
The kettle started boiling. He says to me: You sure you dont fancy a coffee?
Positive. Look eh I’m in cause of my back. .