Ah waited till his wife came back fae pittin the weans tae bed. Then ah said thanks an’ cheerio an’ left.
Ootside, it wis dork, wet, an’ there wis a bit ae wind, aye, wind mair than anythin, the air wis cauld, thon way it goes straight fur yir fuckin lung. Disnae matter, ah thought, jist walk a bit faster an’ ye’ll warm up. By the time ah rang the doorbell at Gross’s hawf an hoor later, ah wis feelin hot, jist aboot.
Sorry, Herr Gross, ye’ll hiv tae forgive me fur botherin ye at this time ae night.
Look who it is! Goalie! That’s naw bad as surprises go — really.
Guid evenin, Herr Gross. Kin ah come in?
Mon ahead, Goalie, c’mon ahead. Whit brings ye tae me?
Guid evenin, Frau Gross.
Guid evenin, Goalie.
Gross said tae his wife tae git anither glass. He wis jist havin a glass ae rid wine wi her in the kitchen, ye see. It wis a nice thought, that: the hunter, when he’s naw oot chasin some petty crook or ither, sits of an evenin wi his wife in their kitchen, drinkin rid wine. Ah said that wis really nice ae him, ah didnae want tae mix ma drinks but, it wid be nice if he’d a wee cognac insteid.
That’s whit ah like aboot you, Goalie, ye nivver come oan aw humble.
Know whit ah like aboot you, Herr Gross? Fact ye drink a bottle ae rid wi yir wife in the kitchen. Anywan else yir age an’ in your position wid probably be watchin telly noo an’ sayin only the bare minimum tae the missus. Naw you but. Naw, yous drink rid wine thegither an’ talk tae each ither.
Watchin telly’ll get ye naewhere, Goalie.
Exactly. Jist whit ah wis sayin. Guid honest work disnae get ye anywhere eether but. Listen, Herr Gross, fur mair
than a month noo, ahv hid a permanent joab. Believe me but, ahv still naw managed tae save anythin.
Ye hiv tae be patient, Goalie. All things come to him who waits.
Know whit ah think, boss? Ah think ahv waited a loat awready, faur faur too much in fact — an’ faur too little his come tae me.
Whit ye sayin, Goalie?
Ahm sayin: that’s me offski. Ahv come tae say goodbye, Herr Gross. Yiv noo wan cunt less tae look oot fur.
Gross fae the Drug Squad looked at me, wide-eyed, while his wife poured a cognac wi’oot sayin nuthin.
First but, ye want tae get things straight, Goalie. Is that where ah come in?
Naw, ahv got things straight awready. Ah noo know who ma friends ur, an’ who — mair probably — urnae.
Tell me, Goalie. Tell me yir stories. Ye can tell me. An’ ahv time.
Ye know me well, Herr Gross, mibbe jist naw well enough. Ahd like tae tell ye a story. Aboot the piece ae business that kid interest ye but, ah’ll be tellin ye absolutely nuthin. The wan thing ah kin say is: ah noo — mair or less — hiv a clear overview. An’ that’s how ahm packin ma bags. There’s nuthin tae keep me in this village, cept mibbe Regula. She kin come wi me if she wants but.
Gross wantit tae know whit ahd found oot. Ah tellt him nuthin, nuthin aboot Pesche, nuthin aboot wee Stofer, nuthin aboot Uli, an’ nuthin aboot the strange Frenchman who looked like an Arab. Naw: especially aboot they things, ah tellt him sweet fanny adams. When ah rang his doorbell, ah wis still thinkin ah might tell him ivrythin — so the shit wid hit the fan a bit fur they guys, like it did fur me back then. Then but, ah realised: that wisnae whit this wis aw aboot, fur me, any mair. Let they over-the-hill jerks keep their fuckin shack by the sea. They’ve achieved fuck-aw else so they hiv. An’ if Operation Villa went smoothly fur them, it shidnae fuckin fail noo an’ cos ae me. It’s naw as if they’re expected, up at the Joke.
Hiv anither think, Goalie. If ye know summit, it’s better tae tell me than try tae pull some stunt — aff yir ain bat.
Ahm naw goney pull any stunt, Herr Gross. Ahm fuckin off jist. Movin. At the end ae the month.
Where tae?
Dont know yet. Naw that faur. Berne, Zurich, Basel — nae idea. A city but, that’s fur sure. Somewhere where ahm less famous.
He gave me a tired smile, like someone who means well by ye. Then signalled tae his wife an’ she poured me mair cognac.
Wance ah got hame, ah phoned Regula.
Ye sleepin awready?
Naw, whit ur you daein?
Callin you, Regi. Cos ahm missin ye.
Let’s take oor time wi this, Goalie. Ahm naw as quick as you, wi things like this. Ahv jist split up fae Buddy.
That’s okay, Regi. Take yir time. Take aw the time ye want. You’ve got time. Ah hivnae but. So ahm leavin.
Whit? Where ye gaun, Goalie?
Ah dont know yet.
Abroad?
Naw. Naw that faur, naw. Tae a city but.
Is that yir latest?
Aye. Ahv jist decided. Ahm goin through wi it but. Ahm naw like the hunchback at Cobbles who’s been hangin aroon fur years, tells ye ivry six months but aboot some big foreign project or ither he’s aboot tae dae. He’s still sittin there, aye at the same wee table, drinkin the same wee beer, an’ naw movin a millimetre. Naw, ahm naw the hunchback. Ah say jist the wance ahm goin an’ then ah go.
Whit dis that mean fur us?
Nuthin. Ah tellt ye, ahm givin you time. Ah’ll naw fall in love wi someone else, ye dont need tae worry aboot that. Yiv as much time as ye want. An’ if ye decide tae, ye kin come an’ join me.
Know summit, Goalie, ahm findin this idea a bit difficult.
How wis ah supposed tae reply tae that? Ahd the jitters masel, ye cannae be afraid ae summit afore yiv even fuckin started but. So ah tellt her, ivrythin wid be fine. It wid aw be fine. Tae hiv a guid sleep. An’ that ah loved her. An’ she wis happy wi that.
The next day, a registered letter arrives. Ah fetch it fae the post office in the evenin an’ open it tae learn ahv won the car, the wan in the competition ah done in a stupor thon time. Ah wis hardly able tae remember. Ah dae they competitions ivry noo an’ then — an’ ye end up naw knowin which wan ye done when.
The answer hid been STATUE OF LIBERTY, that’s whit brung it back. Ahd been hopin tae win second prize, a trip tae New York. Noo but, it wis first prize: a Ford Fiesta. Naw bad eether, if ye think aboot it. Gets ye ootae the hoose occasionally. Ah take the car as a sign ma winnin streak his noo officially started. That things wi Regula will work oot an’ aw. Soon as ahv done aw that needs daein, they’ll hiv seen the back ae me here. Aw in aw, a minor loss, jist, tae the local community. Naw, naw, it’s true. Losin a cunt like me? They’ll get over that wan nae tother a baw.
20
Since ah left the Fog, things hiv went doonhill again. Naw badly, it’s still undeniable but. Ah wis nivver someone who imagined a new place wid make a new person ae ye. Ye need tae face the facts but. At the place ah left, nae cunt misses me — an’ where ah noo hing oot, nae cunt wis waitin fur me eether. Those ur the realities. Aye.
Jist as ah wis mair or less done daein up the flat in Berne, ah smashed the Ford Fiesta ah won straight intae a tree. Naw faur fae Ittigen. Shit happens. Major shit happens. Ah wis lucky. The damage tae me masel wis less than the damage tae the car. So ahm back tae bein a pedestrian.