Dirt Road

TWO

Past midnight and deserted. They were seated on a bench at a bus-stop, luggage by their feet; the second bus dumped them here an hour ago. No bus station, just this bench at the outside wall of the drop-off point. Uncle John still hadnt arrived. There was an old payphone but Dad couldnt make it work. Maybe nobody could. He was back trying again. He managed the coins into the slot okay but whatever else he was doing it just wasnt happening. He saw Murdo watching and replaced the receiver, stepped away from it.

Dad will I try? asked Murdo.

Instead of replying Dad walked to the edge of the kerb and stared one way then the other.

But with payphones ye had to do everything in sequence. When ye put the money in and when ye dialed the number was important. Maybe Dad was doing it in the wrong order. Plus the area codes. It was only a wee town. Maybe ye needed to key in different codes like for cities closeby or else if it was a different state. Maybe it was. Then if there wasnt much light to see and there was hardly any light here; only one lamp, plus the moon!

Maybe Uncle John’s car had broken down someplace. That happens. People get breakdowns. What if he had had one in the middle of nowhere?

Dad was still staring down the road. Maybe he hadnt heard. What did it matter, it was Murdo’s fault anyway, them being here. That was missing the bus. Then disappearing this morning when he went to the shop and heard the music. If he didnt need the teabags he wouldnt have gone to the shop. So it was the teabags’ fault. But it was Dad wanted them.

Murdo settled his elbows on his knees and pulled up the hood on his jacket although it wasnt cold. It was calm and peaceful. Ye noticed the breeze, that wee whisshh, whisshh. That is how calm it was. Just sitting there on the bench. That was good anyway, having benches. It was too wee a place for a waiting room but at least ye could sit down, then leaning forwards, yer elbows on yer knees and just staring at the ground, and the ground was like anywhere in the world. Ye could forget everything.

What happens when ye get mesmerised? The way sounds connect in yer brain. Ye hear sounds. Him and Dad on a bench and nobody walking past. A ghost town. People in their houses and all the doors closed. Windows all shut. Yet sounds were here. The wind at night blows in from the hills or from the sea. Thunder miles away and the sounds. What comes in yer ears? These wee passages and tubes.

Something does. Then what happens? Connections. Memories maybe. Not just memories. Ye go someplace in yer brain. Back home they lived up a hill at the back of the town and there were no sounds except country sounds: the fields and the hills; the forest, the river and the lochs; the sea itself. Lying in bed at night and ye cannot sleep and have to close the window: how come? oh it is too noisy! But the sounds arent loud it is only because ye hear them. You: you hear them. So ye just have to not hear them, then ye can go to sleep, instead of floating off in yer head.

A science teacher played the class music to do with rain and water. Big dollops of rain on a corrugated roof; soft pattering on a shallow pond; a rushing river; drip trails on a pane of glass. People were impressed but it wasnt as big a deal as all that. The fiddle makes the sound of a train blowing in from a distance, disappearing into nothing. A mouth organ did as good a train sound as a fiddle. Trains coming and going. Ye could do stuff on accordeon too, or plucking a guitar string. It depended who was doing it and what they were doing it for. But it was always people doing it. Take away the people and there wasnay anything. That included computerised sound-systems, multi-track mixing and whatever, it was still you had to programme it in. The teacher was right about that.

But it was obvious anyway. Trains never arrive any place. Only the person. A train is there and then it is there and inbetween it is there, and there, and there it is again because it doesnt go anyplace. A person never goes anyplace, it is only the train. The train moves and the person arrives. “Doh” starts and “doh” finishes. When ye get to doh ye arrive, ye have arrived. And take off if ye want!

That was Murdo right now, he felt like that. The world moves but you dont, you are still sitting there.

Music helped ye work things out. From “rain” to “train” ye added a “t”. Then there was “tee” as in la tee doh. “Tee” is always getting someplace and never arrives, not until “doh”. “Tee” needs the “doh”. “Me” stands alone.

What sounds do people make?

The sound of Mum.

Did Dad make sounds after she died? Murdo didnt, he couldnt. Didnt because couldnt. Couldnt couldnt. Whoever could would. He couldnt. His head didnt work. Only for stupid stuff. What was a hospice? He didnt know. Imagine that. Ye have to be dying. The doctor tells ye, Oh ye have to go to the hospice.

But I dont know what a hospice is.

It means you are dying.

Oh.

Dad told Murdo the night he heard the news. Murdo had a night off from hospital and was fooling about with a couple of pals. He came home before eleven o’clock, intending to make toast and tea then skip upstairs to his room except Dad was waiting by the door, waiting for him. They sat down at the kitchen table. Dad wasnt looking good. He was trying to be okay but wasnt good at all. It was just like jeesoh ye knew something. Eventually Dad spoke. Mum’s being transferred to the hospice. He stared at Murdo then gave a wee smile.

Oh Dad that’s brilliant!

That is what Murdo said: brilliant. The exact opposite from what it was. He thought hospice was good. He thought it the next thing up from a hospital. He thought a hospice was where the patient went as the next stage in the recovery process. Go into a hospice and then go home after. Could ye get more stupid? How could a person be so stupid? So utterly utterly just the stupidest most stupidest

Dad didnt know he had misunderstood and it was about two days before Murdo realized the truth. Nobody told him. It was how people reacted when they heard him say it. It was like Oh God… And Murdo saw their faces.

Imagine seeing into somebody’s head. A surgeon does it but only for bones, brains, arteries and stuff, not to see actual thoughts or hear what somebody is thinking. Inside the head is the skimpiest imaginable bit of noise, like the weest tiniest particle possible. It begins from a thought in the brain which sets off a vibration. These vibrations add to the noise of the world. Dad’s too; sitting on the bench; this wee town in America; staring at nothing; his arms folded and mouth open — it was, it was open. Dad sat with his mouth open; an old man! He wasnt staring at nothing, but into the distance, the street out of town. In his head it was the same as in Murdo’s: Mum and Eilidh. Dad and Murdo, Mum and Eilidh. Two and two: two alive and two dead.

At the funeral the Minister was talking about God’s creation. Created and cremated: the letter “m” turned the live creation into the dead cremation. “M” for Minister, “M” for Mum, “M” for Murdo.

Some letters can be good. Murdo liked “b” and “s” and “z” but not so much “d”; “t” was okay. Dad was “t” for Tom. “M” for “mee” was good as in doh ray mee. “Mee” is a cheery note. Not for a death. Ye make that sound deep in yer throat; mmmmmmm, a humming sound, going on and on and on. It can last forever. But when the breath is gone the “m” is gone.

Murdo leaned his elbows back on his knees and sat forwards, staring at the ground.

Soon after came the police patrol car. This was the third time. It passed slowly, the cops staring at them, just like out a movie; quite scary. The car looked heavy and powerful. Probably they were suspicious characters. If they made a wrong move the cops would arrest them. If they tried for a getaway they would catch them easily or kill them. They would! If they thought ye were dangerous. Maybe ye werent dangerous but so what, if they thought ye were: bang bang, Aaahhhhh. Oh he is innocent. Sorry, I shouldnt have killed him.

A 4x4 approached. One of these solid big things, built like a tank.

Uncle John! said Dad.

It was. He had the window down and saluted them with his arm outside. Another man was with him. Both wore baseball caps. He did a U-turn, pulled up beside them and jumped out.

Tommy! Uncle John laughed loudly and grabbed Dad for a cuddle, slapping him on the back. It was strange to see. Dad just stood there but he was laughing too. He never gave cuddles except to women. Murdo didnt expect it either but the same happened. Uncle John grabbed him by the shoulders: cuddle thump thump thump. Then he stepped away, looking him up and down. Murdo Murdo I was expecting a wee boy for God sake what age are ye now, ye’re near bigger than me! Jees Dave look at the size of him.

Dave was the man with him. Uncle John grabbed Murdo by the shoulders once again: cuddle thump thump thump: Tommy Tommy, what age is he! Honest to God I was expecting a kid! How old are ye son?

Sixteen, coming up for seventeen.

God love us! My own big sister’s grandson Murdo that’s who you are! She never made it but you have. Uncle John laughed then shook hands with Dad a second time. Tommy son I never thought to see ye. I feel weepy! He sighed, then introduced the other man. A good friend. Dave Arnott. Got the Macdonald blood in him. Eh Dave!

Dave smiled and shook hands with Dad then Murdo. Uncle John meanwhile lifted Dad’s suitcase. Dad said quickly, That’s heavy.

Uncle John gave him an amused look and hoisted it into the boot of the 4x4. Although much older than Dad he lifted the suitcase easily. Murdo made to shove his rucksack into the boot but Dad did so instead. Uncle John closed the boot and showed Dad into the front passenger’s seat. Dave and Murdo were for the rear. Murdo sat on the side behind Dad. While they were finding the seat-belts Uncle John said: Tommy son, how in hell you ever end up in Allentown, Mississippi!

Dad sighed.

Uncle John laughed. One for the storybooks eh!

He drove in a relaxed way, chatting to Dad with one hand on the wheel, shouting occasional comments back to Murdo and Dave, while the radio played country music. He lived in a small town someplace on the outer regions was how he described it: I call it Scotstown. Every second person ye meet. Take Dave’s family now the Arnotts, they been here since forever, eh Dave?

Couple of hundred years, said Dave.

Hear that? Puts us all to shame! Then you got Macleods, Macleans, Macsweens, Macaulays, Johnsons — Johnson’s a Scottish name Tommy?

Yeah.

Just everywhere ye go!

Dave turned to Murdo. You got Arnotts and Macdonalds round where you come from?

Eh yeah, I think so.

The old Macdonalds! cried Uncle John. They were the ones with the farm; eh Murdo boy!

It was the Battle of Culloden that ended it for the Macdonalds, said Dad. They were forced to leave the country after that. They would have been wiped out otherwise.

Jees yeah! Hear that Dave? Wiped out! Then ye got the other one, Glencoe. Right Tommy?

Yeah. And before that the Covenanters.

The Covenanters! Uncle John called over his shoulder.

They got a homecoming two years from now! replied Dave.

When Dad didnt answer Dave Arnott looked to Murdo for a comment but Murdo was not sure what he meant. Dad was knowledgeable on history and politics but he wasnt.

Later no one was talking. Uncle John had increased the volume on the radio. It was for one particular song, loud on mandolin. Bill Monroe! he said. His people now they hail from the Outer Hebridee Islands Tommy, you believe that? Bill Monroe! Come from the island of Lewis. Uncle John started singing along on the chorus: I’m on my way to the old home, a place I know so well.

He knew the song but not the words and continued in a doo doo doo doo doo style. He stopped soon and chuckled. That’s us Tommy son! On our way to the old home! Hey Murdo! You sleeping back there?

Nearly.

Nearly! Uncle John laughed.

*

It was past two in the morning by the time they arrived. Murdo enjoyed that drive. He didnt remember Uncle John too well but there was something about being here and traveling a road ye had never been before with this old guy from yer own family. Murdo’s granny was Uncle John’s big sister. That gave Murdo a nice feeling too, seeing the parallel with himself and Eilidh. When Uncle John spoke about his sister ye could see how much she meant to him. His own wife was Aunt Maureen. Murdo met her back when he was wee but couldnt remember anything about her. Her and Uncle John had two sons living in other parts of America: first cousins of Dad.

Aunt Maureen had gone to bed but left sandwiches for them on a plate. Uncle John put on the kettle for tea. Dad just sat there, he looked exhausted. Murdo said, Mum would have loved it here Dad wouldnt she.

Dad smiled.

Uncle John was Dad’s relation by blood but Mum would have loved the adventure. Plus the house; detached bungalow-style with a basement, comfy and with wee ornaments and fancy-looking things. All of it, Mum would have loved it.

Murdo was put in the basement. When Uncle John told Murdo he said, Great. Uncle John laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. Aunt Maureen had guessed he would choose that because it was what boys liked.

But for Murdo it was only because it was out the way of things and he could relax and not have to bother about stuff. There was one big room and two wee ones and the stairs down opened into the big one. A mattress was on the floor but Aunt Maureen had prepared it like a bed with sheets and a duvet, and left two towels neat and folded on top of it. That was the towels. Ha ha to Dad. People gave ye towels if ye were a guest.

With his two sons long gone Uncle John wanted to develop the basement properly. He hadnt got round to it yet but would in the future. A question of time, he said. Most of the space was taken up with furniture and stuff; cupboards, wardrobes and different types of tables; big polythene bags bundled together. Uncle John had shifted stuff to create space for Murdo roundabout the bed area but it was difficult to walk without banging into something, and the same in the two small rooms adjacent. But it was still good, and private too: Murdo liked that.

Dad had brought him a bottle of whisky as a present. Uncle John examined the label: Very nice indeed. I’ll enjoy this. He stuck it away into a cupboard and brought another one out already opened. He poured wee ones for him and Dad and added a drop of water. Yeah, he said, you got relations everywhere Tommy. Now Molly Mulhearn, my own mother’s first cousin, we called her Auntie Molly, ever hear of her? she was a great old character.

Uncle John carried on talking. It was good interesting stuff but Murdo was too tired. The thought of getting into bed! Dad too must have been tired. And what about Uncle John himself? He had been working all day then come to collect them, and tomorrow morning it was back to work — in six hours’ time! How do ye cope? asked Dad.

I’m used to it, he said.

Murdo smiled, smothering a yawn. Although past retiral age Uncle John had worked in the same full-time job for years, and traveled long distances. It had to do with maintenance, warehouses and stores, and clean bright offices too; factories and stores and a long long way away but nice because fields and valleys and clean bright offices, warehouses and the stores, he hadnt been able to get time off with the high maintenance, working weekends and all sorts was a sore point. Here they were, Dad and Murdo, and Uncle John was having to work. He had tried and tried but they didnt let him. Ye would think after all these years but no, they couldnt manage without him because like high technology was high maintenance, if ye couldnt go right it was disasters all round to do with everything, just everything and it was only him knew the ins and outs. Uncle John had stopped talking. Murdo opened his eyes and smiled. Uncle John was grinning. Away to yer bed son, ye’re out on yer feet.

I was just…

Ye were snoring!

I wasnt, I’m fine.

Away ye go.

Okay.

Dad smiled, he was sipping at his glass of whisky. Uncle John rose from his armchair and gave Murdo another cuddle thump thump thump. Take a sandwich and a glass of milk down with ye, he said.

Are ye sure?

Oh never say that in this house son! Aunt Maureen left them there to be eaten so ye better eat them. Ye’re in yer own house and ye’ve got to remember that. She’ll give ye what-for if ye dont! Ever heard of Geronimo?

The Indian Chief, said Dad.

Now ye’re talking Tommy that’s yer Aunt Maureen! Uncle John sat back down and lifted his whisky.

Murdo was glad to get downstairs and close the door. He ate the sandwich then undressed, put the glass of milk at the side of the mattress, switched off the lights and was in between the sheets immediately.

Where was the glass of milk? The dark was so intense. His eyes adjusted eventually. Only the one wee window, high up where the wall met the ceiling.

There was an old smell too. Maybe dampness. And a constant sound like wind swirling faraway, then a rushing sort of hollow noise, making ye think of outer space; these stories where the astronaut is sucked out the door and into orbit; currents of wind sucking ye out, except maybe ye dont get that in space, if everything is just the same then how can there be wind, there isnt any and there cannot be any. Or else things would move. Everything would move. But everything does move, everything does move, roundabout you. So it is the opposite of the wind, the wind inside out and you just filling a gap, sucked in filling a gap.

*

He was staring at the ceiling, staring at it for ages not knowing anything. But then was looking about. Wherever he was, he remembered; and pulled the duvet to his chin. Sunlight through the wee high-up window at the ceiling, a narrow strip of window. Up at ground level. This was the basement. Here they were. They were here! Murdo was out of bed at once, pulling a wooden chair to beneath the window. Not much space to walk. He stepped up on the chair to peer out but would have needed a step ladder to manage.

The one drawback: the basement had no toilet. He had to use the bathroom at the top of the stairs; the one for the main house.

The packet given him by Sarah lay next to the rucksack. Inside was the note and the two CDs. The one by Queen Monzee-ay and her band was a “greatest hits” compilation. The other was a selection of stuff. Murdo switched on the light to read the note. The gig was a week next Saturday at a place called Lafayette, 9 p.m. and the venue was the Jay Cee Lounge, which sounded like a bar, but that was okay. Murdo unpacked the rucksack to see what clothes he had brought. Probably not enough. Jeans and two shirts, joggers and T-shirts; a pair of shorts that did for swimming; underwear and socks. His idea was to wash stuff for the second week. He folded and stacked his clothes on top of a cupboard.

He had no idea of the time except he was starving and needed the toilet. When he opened the basement door he heard voices drone. He went upstairs but the bathroom door was shut and somebody in showering, probably Dad.

The voices came from the open-plan kitchen/dining area which was enormous compared to back home. But only Aunt Maureen was there, behind the kitchen counter watching television while preparing food. A weather report was showing. She became aware of Murdo suddenly and she laughed and came to meet him. Oh Murdo!

He laughed too like as if they knew each other already. But they did, they did know each other. You are Murdo, she said. Of course you are!

He made to shake her hand but she gave him a great cuddle instead, then stepped back to look him up and down. My Lord, she said, you are the spitting image! You are. She cuddled him again. You are the spitting image!

Who of? asked Murdo.

Everybody! My! How long since I seen you now son huh? What are we talking here is it ten years?

I think it’s eleven.

Eleven. My Lord and you are the spitting image!

There was a choice for breakfast. He took a banana and a plate of cornflakes. There was a big table in the dining area but also stools at the counter. Murdo said, Will I just eat here?

Sure.

Murdo sat on a stool. Aunt Maureen chatted between doing her work and watching the weather report. This television channel was devoted to the weather and nothing else. All different aspects of that. But it was interesting. Hurricanes were coming in the direction of Florida. Real hurricanes. They could cause bad damage to people. They got it tough down there, said Aunt Maureen.

In Florida?

Oh yeah.

Murdo hadnt known that. Usually Florida was a holiday destination. People with money went there for their holidays. So this was new information. He hadnt realised how big America was. Amazing difference in temperatures. It could be 130 degrees someplace then minus degrees someplace else. Blizzards and heatwaves, tornadoes and torrential rain. In California they had a place called Death Valley. Temperatures there were the hottest of all. Death Valley. You could go and visit. One of Aunt Maureen’s sons lived in California and had kids of his own, so her and Uncle John were grandparents.

Murdo had thought she was Scottish but she wasnt. Her family was American “from the beginning”. Except going back further, yes, they were some kind of Scotch-Irish people. I dont bother too much about that, she said, except if I know them or if it is some-body’s folks but not like old ancestors from way way back. So how about you now Murdo, how was your traveling, all the way from Scotland, how did you do that?

We went on the plane via Amsterdam in Holland.

Holland huh!

Then to Memphis here in America.

But you got a boat someplace?

Yeah, where we live it’s like an island. It isnt but it’s like one, ye need a ferry over to the mainland. Then the train to get the plane.

Well now there you are!

It was a long journey.

Sure it was, said Aunt Maureen. The place we would like to see now your Uncle John and me, that’s Hawaii. We were on the west coast last year visiting the children; drove up Seattle way, my Lord, the sunset there huh, it was just so pretty, that’s the ocean. Got talking to folks and they said about Hawaii, how we would love it down there.

Hawaii! said Murdo.

I been three times to Scotland, huh. Three times. Yeah. No one ever come here. Never. You and your father now you are the first. Aunt Maureen frowned. You surprised about that?

Yeah, I am.

Well it is true son and I wonder about it too. I dont say it to your uncle but I do.

Murdo heard a door closing. That’s Dad out the bathroom, he said and got up off the stool and went through.

He returned to finish his cornflakes. Aunt Maureen was watching the weather channel. Gale force winds and a coastal town; huge waves blowing in over a wide road, guys taking selfies, jumping out the way of the water. A woman talked into the camera about damage to roofs and trees snapped in half and smashed onto cars crushing people. A total nightmare. Murdo carried his empty cereal bowl to rinse clean at the sink. You dont do that, said Aunt Maureen.

Murdo grinned but upturned the empty bowl on the draining board. He said, Is it okay if I go outside?

Huh?

Is it okay if I go outside?

Son you go where you want. This is your home and your family. You go ahead and you just do it. Dont go asking me.

Thanks.

No thanks about it.

It was bright in the dining area. Glass doors led from there to the patio and garden. He swallowed the last of his orange juice, rinsed out the tumbler and upturned it next to the empty bowl. Aunt Maureen, he said, I think people would love to come here. Honest. They would love to come. It’s just they cant afford it. It costs too much money. Otherwise they would. They definitely definitely would. It’s smashing here.

Aunt Maureen smiled.

Honest.

I hear you Murdo.

The dining room doors opened directly onto a wooden patio. He headed outside. It was a good size of a garden, bounded by hedges tall enough to block off the neighbours’ view, but cluttered with junk; old-style garden furniture and children’s outdoor toys mainly, including a chute and swings, and a scooter and a bike with a wheel missing. There was an old garden shed too whose roof looked set to collapse. He prowled around. A football. What a find! It needed air but could be used. He kicked it around, tried a few keepy-uppies but soon stopped. So very warm and with the clear blue sky. Ye forgot about the sun how good it felt. This garden was so so different from Sarah’s but enjoyable in its own way. Ye would appreciate the privacy too, if ye wanted to sunbathe, and it was good for that here, definitely.

*

Murdo had returned downstairs and shoved on his swimming shorts. It was a new pair bought for coming here and they acted like ordinary shorts as well as for swimming. Between two cupboards in the corner of the room he found a stack of books on the floor by the wall. The first one he lifted was cowboys and indians and it looked interesting. He took it upstairs. Aunt Maureen found a huge towel for him. More like a blanket. He had to pass Dad outside on the patio. There was like a roof here; spars of wood across the top gave shade. Dad was at the table reading.

Down by the far hedge Murdo spread out the towel on the grass, took off his T-shirt for a tan and lay down on his front.

Dad hadnt noticed him anyway. Although maybe he had and it just didnt register. When Dad was reading he switched off from everything. Murdo didnt. He wished he could. His concentration wandered for nothing, away thinking about stuff, until then he “came to”: Where am I? Dad tried to get him to read books. Once he started he enjoyed it but it was just starting. The one he brought from the basement was good. Okay, cowboys, but a not bad story and he was quite enjoying it: Cherokee Indians and settlers.

After a while Dad called: Alright there!

Hi Dad, yeah!

Watch out for the sun!

Okay.

Too much of it isnay good.

Yeah.

They went back to reading again, then Murdo stopped and lay on his back, shielding his eyes from the sun. Later Aunt Maureen appeared from the house and called him onto the patio. A tray of sandwiches and a coffee each for him and Dad. Usually he didnt drink coffee. The smell put him off when he was young and he hadnt quite got over it. The only thing worse was cigarette smoke. He opened the slices of bread to see inside. Cheese salad.

Dad waited until Aunt Maureen had gone, and smiled. What ye looking for inside the sandwich?

I was just seeing what it was. Cheese salad…

So what would have happened if it wasnay a cheese salad, would ye have sent it back to the chef?

Murdo smiled, but Dad lowered the book. Seriously? he said. I know it’s just a habit.

Well that’s all it is.

Some habits are good son but some arent. The bad ones are there to be broken. Somebody gives ye a sandwich ye dont open it up to see what’s inside. Know what I mean? It’s actually bad manners. Think about it.

Murdo sniffed. Dad resumed reading. Murdo lifted the sandwich and the coffee, about to return to his spot in the garden. He hesitated then sat down at the patio table. He didnt want Dad thinking he was huffy. He bit into the bread. He wasnt even hungry but Aunt Maureen made the sandwiches especially. He had to eat one. Anyway, better for cleanliness to eat at the table. That would be Dad. If ye dropped crumbs at a table ye could wipe them up whereas in the garden, if ye dropped them on the grass ye didnt see them again.

Although birds came to peck. That was good if ye fed the birds. But what about the crumbs that landed on the earth? causing wee tremors. Insects would feel it. As soon as the food landed that would be them. The earth tremors would tell them. Hundreds of insects arriving from miles around; there they were, heads poking out the soil: snap snap snap. If they missed the grub they ate one another. Insects didnt worry. Did they even know who was who? That’s my granny I better not eat her. Or if it was a lower species of insect, they would eat them. Insects fed off one another.

Dad had finished his sandwich and lowered his book onto the table. He lifted the coffee. I take it ye’re not missing school!

Ha ha.

Dad was smiling.

I never want to go back. I dont Dad. I really dont.

Aye well there’s things we have to do in life Murdo, we dont always want to do them.

Not school though.

School. Work. You go to school I go to work.

I want to go to work.

Dad sighed.

I do. I want to go.

Ye will soon enough.

Aye but Dad I really want to, really. I do.

So ye keep telling me.

Because it’s true.

Dad shifted on his chair, raised the book and gazed at it for several seconds, then lowered it. Where’s all this come from? he said. Ye’ve only got a few months to go and that’s you.

Dad

Less than a year.

Murdo groaned.

One year.

Dad it’ll no work like I mean it wont.

What ye talking about?

Me at school Dad it’s not working, it’s hopeless.

Oh God.

It’s me. I’m just like — I’m hopeless.

Of course ye’re not hopeless. Ye’re not hopeless at all.

I am.

Ye’re not. What ye talking about?

Well what I mean I’m not able to do it. I hate it. I really hate it and I just — I cant do it. I wish I could but I cant.

Ye’re bright enough.

Dad

Ye’re only repeating this year because how things have been at home. It’s nothing to do with being stupid or hopeless or some such nonsense, it’s because of what’s happened, it’s because of like just…the past year and Mum being ill Murdo. Just stick in. Stick in. Ye’ll catch up.

I wont Dad.

Ye will. Then next year it’s college.

Aw Dad.

Ye’re only repeating this one year. That’s all.

Dad

Naw. No more.

Dad I’m only saying

Dad groaned. He looked at Murdo. Murdo shrugged. He lifted the remains of the sandwich and stood, shifting back the chair. He didnt feel like the coffee but took it anyway.

Dad said, Watch ye dont burn. It’s into the mid eighties.

Murdo nodded, returned to his spot on the grass. Dad glanced across but Murdo pretended not to notice, lifted the cowboy book and lay down on the towel. He stretched out on his front, the sun on his back.

He turned to his page in the book. It was good having an actual ordinary book and ye just marked a page and whatever. Quite an interesting story too. But he wanted back down the basement. Except if he went it was being huffy. It wouldnt occur to Dad there was a reason, like music, thinking about music. Okay if he had a headset or something but when ye had nothing, jeesoh. Really it was playing, he needed to play. He really did and he couldnt. He wanted to and he couldnt.

That was Dad: Ye cannay bring the accordeon.

How come! How come he couldnt? How come Dad didnt let him? What was the big problem? It was just stupid. It wasnt like Dad had to carry it. God, just bloody hopeless. He got up from the grass and left the book on the towel, strolled past the patio and through into the dining area; whatever Dad would think, who cares, he would think something.

*

Uncle John returned from work near 6.30 p.m. Dad had gone to his room a while ago. Murdo was helping Aunt Maureen lay the dining table. Back home he cooked most of the weekday meals. Sausages a lot of the time or beef mince; potatoes and peas, beans. Dad did it Friday nights and the weekends. Friday night was fish and chips Dad bought out the chip shop. Most meals they ate on their laps watching television. Here Aunt Maureen laid out the dining table. Different food in bowls so ye could help yerself; meat and vegetables, piles of potatoes. If ye wanted more ye could get it and it wasnt a fuss. If ye wanted bread ye could take that too. Different from the bread back home but better tasting than the stuff from Sarah’s shop.

During the meal Aunt Maureen flitted between the dining table and kitchen but took part in the conversation. She was a brilliant cook. She acted like she wasnt but she was. She called it home cooking but what else would it be? Ye lived in a home and ye had the cooking so it was home cooking; food ye could eat and just relax.

Dad and Uncle John were drinking wine; Aunt Maureen and Murdo had orange juice and water. Dad wouldnt have minded if he had asked for a glass. A wee one would have been fine but just now he was more thirsty than anything. Uncle John was talking about the early days and how life was okay around here even when things werent so elsewhere. Work hard live good. It’s how it’s been since I got here all them years ago. How long mother?

Thirty-eight years, replied Aunt Maureen. I met you thirty-seven; we been married thirty-six.

She’s the brains in this family!

People got two jobs, sometimes three. Aunt Maureen pointed at Uncle John. He always had two.

Uncle John shrugged. It’s the work deal round here.

Not always it aint.

Well most always.

The boys were little you had three.

Is that not a lot? asked Murdo.

Tell him that, said Aunt Maureen.

Uncle John was aware of Dad looking too. Well sure three jobs, if that’s what it takes. Nobody comes in forcing ye; ye want to work ye work. Bop till ye drop Tommy boy ye just get on with it.

Dad smiled. Uncle John paused, about to add something, changed his mind and sipped from his glass of wine. He glanced at Aunt Maureen. I wouldnt have called that one a job now if you’re talking the bread delivery truck.

So what would you call it mister, huh? You drove all night through. Me and the boys never saw you.

One nightshift! That’s the job she’s talking about, one nightshift.

Every Saturday night Sunday morning. Twelve hours straight you worked, so dont tell me.

Uncle John grinned, jerked his thumb in Aunt Maureen’s direction.

Oh yes now you gotta make fun of it; seven days out working.

It was only for a year or two. Uncle John winked at Murdo. Young family son, your Dad knows what I’m talking about.

Three jobs, said Aunt Maureen, we hardly saw him.

Uncle John reached for his wine and gestured with it to Dad. Dad raised his own glass in reply, and they clinked them. Uncle John looked to Murdo: Sláinte mhath son.

Sláinte mhath, said Murdo.

They clinked glasses. Aunt Maureen joined them. Dad raised his glass again, and gestured to Murdo to raise his: they held them aloft. Dad said to Uncle John and Aunt Maureen: This is just to you two, from me and Murdo, thanking ye both for having us here.

Definitely, said Murdo.

Och away and behave yerself! grunted Uncle John.

Naw, said Dad.

It’s a real pleasure for us, said Aunt Maureen.

Dad was looking embarrassed. He noticed Murdo watching him and smiled. This was the most relaxed Murdo had seen him for ages. Murdo felt it himself. Here ye were free to relax. Back home ye werent. Back home was the house and everything in it. Everything. Every last thing. Everywhere ye looked it was Mum not being there and ye could not get away from that. Never. How could ye? Never ever.

Dad was looking at him. Murdo raised his head.

Uncle John and Aunt Maureen were in the middle of a conversation. Something about Uncle John not getting the time off. No need to raise that now, he said.

Yes there is. Aunt Maureen turned to Dad. He walked into that office Tommy, he confronted them. Huh! That is what he did. He let them know what he thought. After twenty-two years! Huh! They wouldnt give no proper time off! His family from Scotland! No now dont you tell me! said Aunt Maureen to Uncle John. Mister, you are hurting!

I’m not.

You are hurting.

Bloody hurting, I’m not.

Oh now!

Sorry, but I’m not.

Aunt Maureen shook her head. Them boys coming here and you not being around…!

I will be in the evenings.

They dont make it easier for you is what I am saying. Lord knows they could help it along, but they dont, no sir.

Why not? asked Murdo.

Why not huh? That is a fine question son. You say it to him and he might listen. I say it and I am a critical woman.

Uncle John winked at Murdo. Aunt Maureen stared at him. Finally he said: Three times I went into that office. Three times. They still didnt give it; said they needed more notice.

More notice huh!

Because it’s a busy time.

In there’s always a busy time.

I’m just saying what they told me.

The favours you’ve done them!

Eventually Dad said, It’s being here that’s important. I’m not interested in rushing around places. It’s having the break; relaxing. Sitting in the sun. We dont get any sun, where we come from!

It’s true, said Murdo.

So dont go worrying about us. I dont need to go any place except here where I am. I’m here and it’s great.

Uncle John nodded. We’ll see, he said, we’ll see. He smiled suddenly. Ever hear of the Cumberland Gap?

Yeah, said Dad.

They wrote a song about it, said Aunt Maureen.

Uncle John winked. Her family!

Now it aint my family mister but I know what you’re thinking!

The conversation continued on family matters; old people from way back. Dad knew some of their names. Back home he hardly ever spoke about his family so it was interesting to hear. Murdo knew much more about Mum’s side because she used to talk but Dad hardly ever.

They helped clear the table, passing the things to Aunt Maureen who stayed behind the kitchen counter, emptying bowls and arranging leftover food inside the fridge. She piled the crockery and cutlery into a dishwasher. Dad made a joke about back home him being the dishwasher.

They moved out to the patio before it got dark. Uncle John had returned into the house and came back carrying a tray with two beers, two tumblers of whisky and a jug of water. Before long Murdo’s arms were itchy; him and Dad both. Dad was scratching his head too. Mosquitoes. They were here first, said Uncle John, them and the Cherokee Indians.

Dusk’s a bad time, said Aunt Maureen, you got to cover up your skin. Bare arms are no good.

Uncle John shared out the drinks with Dad. You want some orange juice? he asked Aunt Maureen.

No we dont, she said and lifted her teacup, winking at Murdo.

Does he drink a beer? Uncle John asked Dad.

Dad said nothing. Murdo answered, I’m happy with orange juice.

Good for you, said Uncle John.

He’s a boy, said Aunt Maureen, you’re forgetting that.

Well I’m not forgetting it. Uncle John pushed a beer to Dad. Trouble with this place, he said, ye need a car. You should’ve brought yer licence Tommy! Then ye could get out and about.

Dad shrugged.

What about buses? said Murdo. Is there no buses?

Uncle John smiled. If there are son nobody knows!

So do people just walk?

They do that slow running kind of thing, said Aunt Maureen.

Power walking, said Uncle John.

Not power walking mister that’s fast walking.

Jogging.

Aint jogging. I dont know what you call it. I see them doing it at the mall. Round and round they go. They dont buy nothing, they go there for the walk. They all got partners.

Partners? said Murdo.

Yes sir. They go in two’s. Three’s a crowd son that’s the old saying. Aunt Maureen chuckled. My Lord!

Uncle John laughed. Dad was smiling. Uncle John raised his glass but instead of sipping the whisky he stared at Dad: Why didnt ye all come those years ago, when ye had the papers and everything? Uncle John waited a moment. It was your father.

You talking about when I was a boy?

Yeah. Your mother would have come. It was him made that decision. She didnt get the chance. Uncle John sighed. I know she would have come Tommy. You know why I know that? Because she told me. Uncle John sat back in his chair.

Aunt Maureen said to Murdo, Your mother was a lovely person.

His grandmother, said Dad. She was Murdo’s grandmother Aunt Maureen. She was my mother.

Oh of course she was Tommy I am so sorry! Yes and she was a fine lady. She took us to church. That was the parish church and it was Scottish Presbyterian right there in Glasgow.

Well where else would it be? chuckled Uncle John.

She was good fun, said Murdo. I remember her.

Dad glanced at him. You were only a child.

Yes but I remember her.

Do ye?

Yes Dad, really. She made me laugh.

Aunt Maureen was quiet a moment. That is a beautiful thing to say. I hope somebody says it about me.

Och of course they will, said Uncle John.

She’s in a better place now. Aunt Maureen reached to Dad to hold his hand, and she stroked the back of it. Like your own sweet girl, the good Lord knows, she’s walking with Jesus.

Dad hardly moved, except his shoulders a little. Uncle John swallowed a mouthful of beer.

She is, replied Aunt Maureen.

Uncle John smiled when Murdo glanced at him. When Aunt Maureen said “girl” she wasnt meaning Eilidh it was Mum, Mum was Dad’s girl, his girlfriend, his wife. The one “walking with Jesus” was Dad’s mum, Murdo’s granny.

Murdo hadnt thought of it before, just how close they were, Dad and Uncle John, and Aunt Maureen.

Uncle John patted Murdo on the side of the shoulder. You’ve had hard knocks Murdo boy, that’s what ye get in families. So you got to stick together. Folks get hit by things, tragedies and whatnot, they stick together.

Aunt Maureen peered at Murdo. Oh now he is like his mother?

You talking his mother or Tommy’s?

Both, she said.

Uncle John laughed and she did too but it was how Dad laughed! That was the real amazing thing. Dad just burst out with it like a real actual laugh! The three of them laughing away. Murdo laughed seeing them. Uncle John went off talking about some old guy, a distant cousin. Alabama in the old days. Kentucky too, where Aunt Maureen came from. Then a bird landed on the grass a little way down. It walked about. Not hopping, walking. It was weird-looking, with a long tail and a bluish purple colour. Uncle John was saying about another of the old relations, Uncle Donald, who married a woman from Knoxville called Molly.

Related to the Mulhearns, said Aunt Maureen, their daughter married a Gillespie and moved to Arizona.

He was a character, said Uncle John.

He was a mean nasty old man. That’s why his family left; soon as they were old enough.

He had a hard life.

Huh! Aunt Maureen shook her head.

He did.

Dont go excusing him now you know how he was to that poor woman.

Yeah and I’m not excusing him. Uncle John continued on about Uncle Donald and how he was and Aunt Maureen too, who knew the old woman involved. Dad was listening, and seemed to know the people or maybe had heard of them or something and was enjoying it in that relaxed way Murdo hadnt seen for a long while.

That bird was still there, pecking about in the grass. It had a strange face. At the same time ye could see how the face of a bird can be like the face of a human. There was a famous painting of a man with the head of a bird. This one had bright eyes squinting about. Squinty and sharp equals mean and nasty. Maybe it was a human thousands of years ago. Some believed the spirit of a dead person flitted into an animal, a bird or a fish. Or an insect. Some Indian chiefs wore headdresses made of feathers. Uncle John was talking again. Murdo got up from the chair, attracting Dad’s attention to point towards the house. Dad would know he meant the bathroom. But when he exited the bathroom he went downstairs to the basement; he just needed a break.

The basement was the best space possible. Okay it had no air conditioning but so what? The privacy and just like how it was yer own place; ye couldnt beat it. Although the light was so so dim. Heavy shadows, ye wondered about spiders’ webs. That was the trouble being low down; things could crawl onto the mattress. Uncle John had said about cockroaches and how not having air conditioning was a good thing, otherwise they would have been worse. Murdo thought maybe he was kidding but Aunt Maureen said how insects needed moisture and dampness, same for mosquitoes. Dont put ponds in yer garden. Unless ye want mosquitoes. Mosquitoes bring the birds. Ye can shoot a bird. Makes a stew.

*

Next morning he stayed longer in bed. He was awake then back asleep. People said about jet lag so maybe it was that. He needed a shower but was starving. Dad was in the garden when he came upstairs; Aunt Maureen sipping coffee at the kitchen counter. Murdo moved about getting his breakfast. A hot day was forecast. Murdo hoped there was a beach nearby but there wasnt. Up country was a big valley where people went with lakes for swimming and water sports. Uncle John planned on taking them the weekend after next. This coming Saturday he had something else planned if things went right at work and no emergency call-outs.

Aunt Maureen made a pot of coffee. Even the smell was strong. She said to try it like she did: half and half milk. He was happy with fruit juice. She poured an extra coffee: Hey Murdo you take this out to your father?

Of course. I was just like — yeah, of course.

That okay?

Of course, I was just eh…of course.

Nothing, he was just nothing. Dad didnt see him come through the doorway, didnt lift his head from the book until the coffee was on the table. Then he looked up: Okay?

Yeah.

Good.

Dad reached for the coffee. Murdo returned to the house. While closing the glass doors he saw Dad lower the book and clasp his hands behind his head. He rinsed the breakfast bowl and spoon at the sink then downstairs to the basement, straightened out the sheet and duvet. Murdo did most everything back home, including supermarket shopping and laundry. One time making the bed he discovered the bottom end of the sheet was full of stuff; dandruff and old skin, flakes and flakes of it. Every night in life the body sheds skin and the movements ye make while sleeping causes it to reach the bottom, plus yer feet trampling it down. Ye flapped out the sheets and dust microbes were everywhere. Sunlight beamed through the ceiling window and picked them out like in funnels. Each time ye moved millions scattered into the air. Ye coughed and spluttered just to see it. Skin. Flaking old skin, dandruff, showers and showers of it.

Hold yer breath!

Except ye couldnt. Breathe or die. Imagine a lassie seeing it, she would just look at ye. Beyond disgusting.

Maybe beetles lived off it. Parasites and living organisms. Back from the beginning of time. Some things were prehistoric and would have been here since the house was first built. Way before that, back when the Cherokee Indians pitched their tents. In this land the white man was the stranger who killed the Indians. Right where Murdo slept was their land, beneath this very house. Imagine a door leading down, if there was a cellar deeper than that, way way beneath the foundations. If it was a movie it would lead to some gruesome dungeon linked to unsolved terrors and murders beyond imagination. Hellholes and maniacs with chainsaws. Folk getting chopped up and sawn in two. Or black holes, ye open the door and fall to yer doom. If it was a proper black hole it turned a body inside out.

Murdo returned to the stack of books he found earlier, and discovered another stack beside a cupboard; sci-fi tales and detective stories and a few religious ones, with pictures to illustrate the stories. Then inside a cupboard and stuck in at the back were more books, ones with sexy covers. Sexy inside too, jees, that would have been the sons. Ye would read them but not so people would see so like private viewing ye would hide them. Obviously. Murdo opened one and sat down on the mattress. Ye could just about read but were uncomfortable shifting about trying to see better. The light was too bad to be true. The high-up window didnt give enough and the position of the ceiling light didnt help.

Maybe there was a bedside lamp. Stuff was piled into the two small rooms. Cupboards, boxes and bags. Old-style blankets and sheets; clothes and shoes but also plates and bowls, cups. Kettles, pots and appliances with these American-style electrical plugs that were so flimsy-looking ye would worry about explosions; and two electrical extension cables, one forty metres in length.

Even a torch! If there was one he couldnt find it. He stepped over boxes to check out other places. Another cupboard; he knelt down and on the bottom shelf found an old-style top-loading CD hi-fi. He wiped it down with the edge of his T-shirt. No radio but two extra compartments for cassettes; one was for recording. Imagine it worked. Maybe it did. Why not?

The plug was the usual two-pronged thing. He looked for a point and pushed it in. The set-up light came on.

He got the two CDs Sarah had given him and put the first on immediately. It worked! Fast and rocking. Queen Monzee-ay! The tracks she played on the porch. He blasted the volume till jeesoh, people would hear! He turned it down at once. He unplugged it and sought an electrical point nearer the edge of the mattress. He found one and plugged it in, keeping the volume low. The second CD was all different musicians, all accordeon-led. Just brilliant; amazing-mazing stuff. Murdo lay down on the mattress to listen. That sound quality too, the wee sisssss, ssssses. That additional stuff on the old audio system: zzzzsih, sihhh, zzzzsih, different from MP3s, like picking up remote audio pointers. Guys looked for old vinyl records to get it even more. Sometimes it was good but other times ye didnay want it. They said it was better with the interference, like hearing a band live. But it wasnay a band live; just yer own ears connecting, surrounded by audio waves out the machine, with you at the centre — the minutest spec, think of that sonny boy, infinity plus 1. Forgive us our sins and trespasses. Jees, that was Milliken the maths teacher, lessons on compressed data. No such thing as interference. God is great. Infinity plus 1. God is greater. But it was true with the sounds, it wasnt interference.

Oh but it didnay matter now anyway he had the music. He felt it so strongly how he could just relax, relax. Breathe properly. Not being able to play drove ye nuts. But when ye could listen! At least ye could listen. Yer eyes look and yer ears hear but what sees and what listens? Yer brains. Ye listen to the music but “you” is the brain. The brain listens, the brain works.

That was the truth. Every night in life. Lying in bed and all the stuff going through yer mind whether from a gig or a rehearsal, how things worked and if they didnt work. If somebody was out on something, ye had to put it right. You could be asleep but yer brains werent. All these times Murdo woke up and had to jump out of bed and write down, “guitar in more” “fiddle to shut up” “bass too thump thump” “space space space”. What did that mean, “space space space”? Murdo knew.

Then having to stop it all and go to school and listen to silly crap nonsense from people all younger than ye. Just shit, bla bla bla; guys all looking at each other and if their hair looks cool or what, what kind of shoes, what kind of trousers; talking about the same stuff all the time and even lassies like it was the same one they all fancied, aw look at her look at her, check her out!

Murdo was sick of it. Ye just want to laugh. Then if a girl does look at ye, like a real look. Ye think they dont but they do. Girls look. That was Sarah in the shop when she saw Murdo: Who’s that?

Me, shouts Murdo! Me!

Who are you!

Ha ha.

Sarah was tough. Then ye knew her and she wasnt. How she was in the shop taking the money, just tough! Then Sunday morning, how she was then: beautiful. But she was beautiful on Saturday night too.

She knew nothing about Scotland. Not even where it was. It was only England she could “see”. Murdo said to think about the top of England. She couldnt. That was weird. He was the only Scottish person she knew. So if she didnt know Scotland, where did she think he came from? Nowhere. He didnt have a country, it was just him. Murdo. The gig in Lafayette. Oh Murdo will come. As if it was up to him. Probably they thought that. Oh ask Murdo and he will come. How will he get there? Oh somebody will drive him. Who? His dad or his uncle. Maybe his auntie. Oh here he is, here’s Murdo. Hiya Murdo. All ready to play, and his accordeon sent from Scotland. Oh he got it air mail express delivery, where’s the gig!

Ha ha, if that was true. Oh Dad are ye going to drive me? Oh yes, where’s my driving licence. I left it in Scotland. Maybe we can get a train or else a bus. Do buses go to the gig?

Playing with Queen Monzee-ay was another world. The trouble was Dad knew nothing. It never would have occurred to him about the old lady sitting there that she was a beautiful beautiful player, just a brilliant musician. He didnay even hear her playing! When Dad arrived Sunday lunchtime she was sitting having a smoke.

What did that mean anyway? a brilliant musician. For Murdo to speak about music with Dad he would have to start from the beginning, the very very beginning.

*

Later somebody was coming downstairs. Murdo reached quickly to stop the music, was lying on his side when the door clicked open. Dad. In he came. Murdo pretended to be sleeping. A glass of orange juice balanced on a book near his head. Dad would lift it in case it toppled. A sexy book with a sexy cover. That was it without a lock, people just walk in. Dad waited without moving. Murdo opened his eyes and looked about.

Hey, he said, ye coming upstairs?

I fell asleep. I was just eh I was reading.

Hey, said Dad, ye coming upstairs?

Of course Dad yeah.

Dad nodded. Ye done it last night as well.

Done what?

Ye disappeared! Ye left to go the bathroom and ye didnay come back. When we were in the garden. I looked in later and ye were snoozing. We were expecting ye back and ye never came back.

I was just tired I mean I fell asleep.

Ye could have fell asleep later Murdo it would have been nice if ye had come up the stair. Uncle John and Aunt Maureen were looking to say goodnight. It would have been good if ye had been there for them. For Aunt Maureen especially. That great meal she prepared.

Dad I’m sorry.

Yeah I know son but that’s the reality. It’s not anything to be sorry about. Ye just have to think about things. It’s a kind of respect; ye respect the person.

Dad I do respect them, what d’ye mean! They’re great, Aunt Maureen and Uncle John are great.

Well they like you son that’s for sure. Dad stepped to the door but then paused there. He looked again at the old hi-fi. Its set-up light was showing. Is that a CD player? he asked.

Yeah.

I thought I heard music.

I found it in the back room.

Huh!

I was playing it low.

Right… Dad was looking at the CD player again.

It was lying in a cupboard, said Murdo.

So ye just took it?

Murdo gazed at him.

Did ye ask Aunt Maureen?

…

Did ye ask Aunt Maureen?

Dad what about?

About taking it.

No. I just found it I mean I just found it, it was lying in a cupboard.

If it was lying in a cupboard ye went looking in the cupboard. Know what I mean son ye dont find things lying in cupboards. Not without looking inside: ye went looking inside. Which isnt a nice thing to do, being honest about it. Ye dont go into people’s houses and look about in their cupboards. It’s not something ye do son, not in people’s houses. Ye’re here as a guest. Ye should have asked first: that’s all I’m saying.

Sorry.

It’s no a question of “sorry”.

Well I am sorry.

It’s for future reference Murdo that’s how I tell ye these things. Dad closed over the door. The creaks of the footsteps up the stairs; the bathroom door opening then shut and snibbed.

Murdo had waited a moment then stretched out on the mattress again, clasping his hands behind his head. He didnt want to go upstairs yet. But where else?

Nowhere — except down through the dirt.

That was the trouble with the basement. Ye were already in the earth. On the ground floor wee chinks of light came in but not down here. At night the dark was like the densest black ever. Ye could have been floating in outer space, falling backwards, so ye couldnt see what was roundabout, just looking up the way and like how ye never look up the way, ye never do. Ye always think about sideways like how the universe goes; a straight line going on forever but horizontal, never up and down like vertical, so infinity again. Discovering America, that was tides, going sideways and thinking sooner or later, going sideways ye’re bound to hit India.

A different world. That was America. Ye thought ye knew it from the movies but ye didnt. How the Cherokee Nation was till the white man came and stole the land. People fighting and dying. Men, women and children and the stuff they leave behind. Soldiers, cowboys and indians, slaves. Black people. Chains and prisons, getting hanged. Wee babies. Martin Luther King and the cops just battering and killing people. Alabama and these places, and here ye were. People had their beliefs. Were any of them right? They couldnt all be right. Except they believed them. Even that stupid bird

although it wasnt stupid.

Of course it wasnt, just a wee bit unusual how it looked at him, if it did. Murdo thought so. Whatever a person was to a bird. Birds didnt know. Maybe some do, like a parrot. If you were interested in a bird the bird would be interested in you. Cows saw people as giants. Some animals only saw black and white. Bats were blind. If ye had a pet bat it would know ye by the sound ye made. Every person has a different sound, a different face, a different voice. The instruments they use have the same sound but how people play them makes the sound different. Birds too. Birds look at ye. People say “bird-brain” but that is the last thing. Birds are clever. Back home it was seabirds squawking, big gannets and gulls; oystercatchers, guillemots, ducks; all kinds, it depends where ye were. Ye heard them calling to one another. The same sound going all the time, just repeating and repeating be careful be careful

Here comes a stranger, a stranger,

Here comes a stranger.

Here comes a stranger, a stranger,

Here comes a stranger.

*

Aunt Maureen was in the lounge area when he came upstairs; the television on. Murdo had thought she was cooking but here she was knitting, sitting on one side of the settee with a knitting box beside her, a cup of tea set closeby, and a magazine near enough to read. On television the islands in the Caribbean Sea were illustrated in diagrams relating to storms; and the Gulf of Mexico too, and the weather coming in from there: tornadoes. He called: Hi Aunt Maureen.

Hey Murdo. You have a lie-down huh?

Yeah.

Your Dad was saying.

I thought ye were cooking…

Yeah son I’m having a break.

Murdo walked to sit on Uncle John’s usual armchair. Is that tornadoes?

Tornadoes, sure; low-risk in this state. You go to Texas now you got it bad, up through Oklahoma. Here you’re talking hurricanes, coming in from the gulf shores — you heard of Orange Beach?

No.

We got a coast here you know, but they squeezed us out. Look at a map son you’ll see what I’m talking about. Got a map book someplace. Wherever it is! Aunt Maureen laid down the magazine and her cup, lifted her knitting and a knitting pattern book; she glanced about the room.

Murdo watched the Weather Channel for several minutes. The focus had moved now to New Mexico and Colorado, Arizona into California and the coast down there, the long peninsula into the Pacific Ocean. So they had good sea there, then the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean too, and the Atlantic Ocean. It was interesting. Good stuff about America he hadnt known. All the places. Aunt Maureen, he said, I was wondering about walks roundabout here?

Walks?

Walks, like where people can go.

Oh walks huh. Sure. They got a park. Aint much of a drive. During the day is good. There’s some funny people go in the evenings.

Yeah but what about round here? Just going a walk?

You want a break son huh! We got you cooped up. How long you been here a day? Aunt Maureen smiled, paused a moment in the knitting.

Honest Aunt Maureen I wasnt meaning that.

We’ll go to the mall tomorrow son that’s the plan. Got some things to buy for tomorrow evening, got some people coming over. What they call a pot-luck, you know what a pot-luck is?

No.

That’s some of the cooking I’m doing now, for the pot-luck. You’ll see. Kind of nice. Neighbourly. I got some things to pick up. You’ll like the mall. Got all kinds of stores, all the big ones. Hey now Murdo they do the power-walking there! Folks older than me. Round and round they go, elbows flashing. You see their elbows? They’d knock you for seven.

I was just meaning a wee walk, just round the streets.

You need to get out son that’s what you are talking about. Temperature’s up now though, pushing on eighty, be hotter than that in an hour. Evening’s better; early morning: people go early morning. What about your father, you ask him? Him and your uncle’s going for a beer later. He’s taking him to a bar.

To a bar?

Aint fair huh? Got to be twenty-one for that. Aunt Maureen glanced up from her knitting. I got a friend takes buses. She takes buses everywhere.

I thought there werent any.

Oh there’s buses son; of course there’s buses. I dont go on them. But she does. Then she dont drive. I always did.

You! Did ye! Murdo chuckled.

You surprised about that! Since I was twelve years old.

Twelve years old!

My Daddy taught us all. For when he got too drunk to, like the song says. Aunt Maureen paused. No, he didnt get drunk hardly at all except with your Uncle John there now, he liked your Uncle John; for as long as he knew him. My Daddy’s people were from Kentucky, him and his old father came here to work, talking about my granddaddy now Murdo we called him Poppo. My Lord! Aunt Maureen nodded. It’s poor people goes on buses Murdo. You know what that means? Huh? Taking chances is what it means.

Murdo shrugged.

Now son you dont know what’s going to happen. And who’s there. You dont know anything about that either.

Yeah but Aunt Maureen if ye need something in a hurry and ye dont have a car, like I mean if ye cant afford a taxi.

Aunt Maureen continued knitting. I hear you, she said.

Have ye got a local store here, a local one?

Sure.

How far away is it?

Too far.

So do ye not go to it?

Not much.

Murdo shrugged. I would go, if ye needed anything. It’s me does the shopping back home. I always walk.

Oh you do?

Yeah. I dont mind at all. I quite like it. Except if it’s raining like heavy, if it’s lashing down.

Lashing doon! Aunt Maureen chuckled.

Well it does lash down. Murdo grinned. So then ye’ve got to take a bus. Seriously but, if ye ever need anything I mean… He shrugged.

I hear you son.

*

Aunt Maureen said about poor people but that was them. They were the poor people. So why not a bus? They came on buses from the airport so why not now? People worried about things happening but things happened everywhere. So if ye were too scared to go out did ye stay in the house forever? Ye read about hermits from the olden days, usually for a religion and they were communicating with God. They lived on their own completely, away in the woods or in caves at the side of mountains; maybe rocky coasts. How did they eat? They didnt work and didnt go to shops. They didnt want to meet people. They lived off the land, they ate insects and plants. Maybe they caught a fish or killed a rabbit or a squirrel. Or a deer. But if ye dont have a gun how do ye kill a deer? Ye would have to jump on its back and strangle it. Unless ye trapped it, ye could lay traps. There was plenty deer back home. Early morning they come down to the loch for a drink, so ye would hunt them there, if ye were allowed, like Dad said, it was rich people owned them and rich people that shot them.

Squirrels and rabbits.

Fish!

But if ye had no boat and nothing to catch them with? Ye used yer bare hands. Ye lay down with yer hands submerged and waited for a fish to swim over, then fast lifted it up.

America was fine except the sea, he missed the sea. Back home ye could always get out and get away, away from everything.

It didnt matter where ye were if ye were stuck in the house, and the garden was the house. For Dad it was Heaven: sitting in the patio reading a book. Not for Murdo. What did ye do in America? I read a book. Tomorrow was Wednesday. From last Friday six whole days. Nearly a week.

In the distance the sound of wood being sawn, just the ordinary sound of the saw: brooop brip, brooop brip. It was right for the setting if ye were outside; thinking of settlers cutting down trees to build log cabins.

Murdo was out the garden when Uncle John came home from work. He worked on maintenance and part of that was being ready for emergency call-outs. It was a boost to his wages and he had been doing it for a long while. The big news was for this Saturday coming then the weekend after next.

Saturday was what they called “The Gathering”. Although it had a church connection it was good fun according to Uncle John, keeping alive the history and culture of the Celts. Stalls and raffles, home baking and prizes and competitions; all different stuff and finishing with a dance in the evening. Some old Scottish guy had left instructions and a sum of money so it would happen year in year out. There was a wee chance Uncle John might cancel if a work emergency arose, but if nothing happened by Friday night they would be off Saturday morning. If something happened while they were away they would text him.

The really big news was the weekend after that: they were giving Uncle John the Friday off and guaranteed no call-outs Saturday and Sunday. This meant he was free Thursday night through Sunday evening, so they could plan something good. They were speaking about it at the table. Murdo just listened. There wasnt anything to say. It led into the usual conversation about relations. Uncle John was talking about his sister’s husband again — Dad’s father — blaming him for not emigrating when Dad was a boy. If Dad disagreed, he didnt say anything. Murdo was ten when the old guy died, his grandpa. He sang comic songs and folk songs. Murdo had a memory of him, like not so much funny as cheery, but in a kind of angry way. That was the memory: he was an angry old guy.

Uncle John carried on talking but stopped when Aunt Maureen arrived. He kept his lips closed tightly and drew his fingers across, zipping up his mouth.

Well I hope so, she said, meals are for eating.

Uncle John made the gesture of unzipping his mouth then repositioned the food on his plate. Potatoes to the right and meat to the left. How else ye supposed to do it? he said, and winked at Dad and Murdo who were already eating.

Aunt Maureen sat for a while without touching hers. She did the same last night. Murdo wondered if she was saying a Grace to herself. Maybe she just needed a break after cooking. She had her own style of eating too like she didnt want to open her mouth too wide. She used a knife only when she had to. She cut up her meat into small pieces then laid down the knife and ate with the fork, and after most every mouthful she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

Towards the end of the meal Uncle John looked out a bottle of wine and displayed the label to Dad. Local produce, he said and offered Murdo a small glassful.

It’s too strong, said Aunt Maureen.

Och no it’s not.

You tell me huh! You see that Tom? He calls it local like Alabama well it aint Alabama. That is a wine from my own home state. That is a Kentucky wine.

Uncle John smiled. Sure it is mother but you wouldnay call it strong. Down the wine country they’d laugh ye out of town.

Oh they would huh? You telling me?

I’m talking about strong drink.

You think I dont know about strong drink? My Lord.

Uncle John smiled. What d’you say Tommy? A wee one for Murdo?

Eh… Dad frowned a moment.

I dont really want one, said Murdo.

Ye sure son? One means nothing.

If it means nothing why take it? asked Aunt Maureen.

Because it’s tasty.

Oh it’s tasty alright.

How do you know?

I know.

Uncle John gestured with his wine glass. Now this lady here; you know she has never tasted one drop of the cratur in all of her born days? What do ye make of that? And her father, if ye knew her father…!

He was no drinker.

Not at all. I’m not saying he was.

Sure he liked a beer, well so what? a beer huh, what’s a beer?

Nobody’s saying nothing about that. I was only going to say about old Poppo.

Oh now my granddaddy huh? You got something to say there?

Nothing bad.

Yeah you got that right mister. You dont know one single thing bad about him. Not about him you dont.

Nothing bad at all. Just fun. Uncle John chuckled. Old Poppo distilled the stuff.

Aunt Maureen glared at him. You cant keep your mouth closed.

That tradition is in your blood my lady is all I am saying.

Aint in my blood! She clasped her hands together on the table and glared at him again.

Uncle John sipped at his wine. Her granddaddy was called Poppo. A real mountain man. Coonskin cap and all that.

Oh now be quiet.

Him and her father took me hunting one time.

More than once, said Aunt Maureen.

More than once mother sure, I’m talking this one time the old man shot the bird! You know what I’m talking about. How old was he?

He was seventy-three. Aunt Maureen laughed and smothered it quickly.

Yeah, said Uncle John. We were going through the land up from some marshes, nearby this little pond.

The bird pond.

The bird pond yeah, that’s what they called it.

That’s its name, said Aunt Maureen.

Yeah, and a great pond too, something different about it; all weeds and rushes, frogs jumping; all of that, the dogs were with us.

You have two mister, huh?

Two beauties, yeah. See now they were looking to scare the birds out the weeds and the undergrowth so they would rise up and we could shoot them. Well not me so much. I didnay have a gun.

You couldnt shoot huh?

Not then I couldnt.

You learned mister.

I did, yeah. So we were walking, just watching the dogs, they’re gone about a hundred yards on, two hundred, and away separate from each other Murdo, that’s how they did it, the dogs trained into it.

Aunt Maureen nodded.

They scared out the birds. Just them being there. I dont know quite what it was, but then one rose up from the marshes.

Aunt Maureen sighed, shaking her head. She smiled at Murdo then looked back to Uncle John, rubbing at her mouth.

Round the side of the pond near to where we were, he said. Not over our heads but not too far away in distance this bird rose up, a good-eating bird, just rose up into the sky and old Poppo just whohh turning and raising the rifle, aimed a moment: boom! I thought he had missed. Ye’ve missed I says. He didnay say anything. Ye’ve missed I says. No now son I aint missed he says I aint missed.

Aunt Maureen laughed, smothered it again and blinked, then laughed again.

Uncle John was shaking his head. I aint missed he says.

Aunt Maureen had a napkin wiping her eyes. Uncle John was laughing just as much. Dad too was laughing. Murdo too, seeing it in his mind’s eye, Uncle John just young, and there was the bird and the old guy with the gun. In the middle of laughing Aunt Maureen managed to speak. Oh the poor thing, she said, the poor thing.

The story hadnt ended. Uncle John waved to quieten everybody down. Aunt Maureen pointed at his meal plate: Finish your food mister. You drink that wine and you forget to eat.

Okay. He smiled, took a sip of wine, calmed enough to carry on: I thought he had missed. I did. I thought he had missed.

You thought that huh? Aunt Maureen winked at Murdo and Dad.

The bird was just up there and Poppo had his shotgun down now back in his arms — you know how they hold it — just standing looking up.

What was my father doing? asked Aunt Maureen.

Oh your father, he was the same, just looking up. But he was smiling, he was smiling. Oh yeah and he told me to wait; wait he says, just wait now John you see up there, you just keep looking.

Aunt Maureen nodded; her eyes closed a moment and she had her head lowered. Uncle John touched her on the wrist, and said to Dad: Me and him got on Tommy; he was a good guy.

Dad nodded.

Uncle John smiled. And old Poppo there, the bird with its wings flapping. No son he says I aint missed. The bird with its wings; flap flap, flap; flap flap, flap, till then it stopped, it stopped flapping.

Poor thing, said Aunt Maureen. What about the dogs mister?

Oh man the dogs, yeah, they were waiting too, running in wee circles, not taking their eyes off it. It was up high too. How high would it have been? forty feet? Sixty feet! I dont know, it was high. I’m telling you that bird; that bird gave its last flap and dropped like a stone. No son I aint missed it.

My Lord…

The dogs raced each other to get it.

Did they? said Aunt Maureen.

I think so. What a shot but! And ye know something else? they didnay think it anything special.

No sir.

I came home wanting to talk about it and people just looked. Her mother and people, they just looked.

Aunt Maureen grinned. They made fun of you huh?

They laughed at me!

Sure they laughed at you, can you blame them? I cant.

All the time we were there, the first time your aunt here took me home, all they did was play tricks on me. Naw but it’s true, yer bloody sisters!

Hey! Hey now!

Yeah well they did!

Aunt Maureen peered at him. Yeah well you always always got to talk. What’s your name huh? what’s your name is it Scotch oh Scotch oh my oh my my…! Aunt Maureen frowned to Dad. He went round every one of them, where we lived, all our neighbours; every one, what’s your name now is it Mac, is it Scotch is it Irish.

They thought I was bloody IRS!

Dad laughed.

Hey now I was young, young and proud. You would be exactly the same standing there far from home. A wee Scottish boy, that’s all I was; what did I know!

Aunt Maureen made a face at him, and drawled out: Glaaaassgoww, I’m from Glaaassgow. Oh yeah we got family there says Becky, in west Kentucky we got family!

Uncle John grinned, but didnt speak. Aunt Maureen hardly had touched her food while he was speaking. She studied her plate now; moments later she got up from her chair, lifted the plate and left the room. It left a silence. Uncle John watched the door for a while. He said to Murdo. She’s talking about her sister Becky.

Murdo glanced at Dad.

Uncle John added, She’s dead now.

Oh God, said Murdo.

It’s a couple of years ago.

Murdo shook his head.

Good people? said Dad.

They took me in and gied me a life Tommy, know what I mean, what did I know, a wee boy from Glasgow. Uncle John swallowed a mouthful of wine. He said to Murdo: How’s the basement son?

Good.

Aye, she said ye’d like it down there. Uncle John smiled. So did the boys! One time me and yer Aunt Maureen were gone overnight they threw a party. First half hour thirty kids arrived. Fun and games eh! Other kids came and they didnt let them in. They had a pitched battle. We came home and what do you think? a window broke, two chairs smashed to pieces; broke tumblers, broke plates, broke damn everything! Uncle John turned to Dad. So what did I do? I turned the whole goddam space into a storeroom. No more party time.

Well fair enough, said Dad.

Yeah fair enough, that kind of behaviour; they were too big for it. Hurting their mother. They did hurt her. We trusted them and they let us down. You put the trust in kids they got to earn it, and go on earning it. That’s growing up.

Uncle John sighed. Your cousin Calum’s out in Silicon Valley Murdo, that’s three thousand miles away.

Whoh!

People forget that. Ye cannay just get up and go.

Not like the old days.

Not the old days either son, that’s here to Scotland. That’s wagon trains, crossing the Sierra mountains in the middle of a bloody snow storm. Uncle John stopped. Aunt Maureen had reappeared with a pot of tea on a tray, milk and sugar. She set it down on the table. When she was seated she said to Uncle John, You talking about something?

I was just saying about California, that time we visited. We drove the length of that coast; Seattle down through Santa Cruz; central California. That’s a beautiful coast too, ye might no think it but it is.

You talking about the boys?

Not really no.

Aunt Maureen sighed. Feuding runs in families.

I know, said Dad.

Uncle John winked at Murdo. Me and the boys had a bit of a fall-out… Uncle John swallowed the last of his wine and glanced at his wristwatch: What d’ye say Tommy? Still fancy a beer?

Eh…

Aunt Maureen peered at Uncle John. You fit for driving?

Uncle John smiled.

*

It was relaxing after they had gone. Murdo helped with the clearing up then sat in the lounge watching television. Aunt Maureen came in for some of it but mostly she stayed around the hallway, doing cleaning and tidying for the people coming tomorrow evening. Then she came into the lounge with the vacuum cleaner. She gave him a big smile then battered on with it. He could have done it for her but she didnt want him to, like as if he didnt know how to do it properly! Who did she think did it when Mum was ill? Murdo did all the house chores; all the tidying, everything. Even the garden. Dad was like Uncle John with traveling; seven in the morning till seven in the evening.

Murdo left her to it. Downstairs he switched on the music and looked out a couple of the books he had found. He went back upstairs to see if he could borrow a bedside lamp. Aunt Maureen got one for him. It made all the difference. He positioned it close to the electrical point where he had the hi-fi. Now he could turn off the main light, get onto the mattress and just read and play the music. In between the sheets was even better; as good as back home. Not any better but just equal to it. Although the books were better. Back home he hardly had any apart from children’s ones from years ago. If he wasnay playing music he did most stuff online. Not games so much, not nowadays. He used to but then stopped, like he just lost interest and kind of gave up. It was boring. People went on and on about games, then ye checked them out they were just like hopeless, going over and over the same routines till yer head was buzzing with it. Some folk needed music. Murdo was one of them. Music keeps ye sane. People said that and it was true. More true was it kept ye safe. But he needed to play. Listening was good but wasnt enough. Even proper listening.

Murdo did “proper listening”. That was what he called it. He listened and took stuff in. Only if things are on yer mind. Even ye concentrate hard, they creep in, and where does it take ye? Wherever, just anywhere. Listening to music takes ye places, and ye go these places, letting in the music, how the music comes in on ye, washing over, ye think of tides, like a slow tide, an evening tide.

*

Then he was needing to be someplace else, he really really had to be and it was so so urgent, just so urgent, traveling on from there wherever he was going but to this place, where it was, and black people, and brown people too, wee people and skinny people, just people everywhere. Cowboy hats and funny-looking jackets; flip flops and big boots. Skinny girls with bare legs and blotchy skin with purple patches, the muscles in their legs hard-looking. Ye walked in the bus station and there they were; maybe they were ordinary, maybe they werent, the ones looking, who are you looking at; short skirts riding high up too so if they came up further, further and further. Maybe they were prostitutes. Ye saw guys staring and the lassies didnt care or else stared back, short short skirts and legs stretching. They were just there and if guys looked at them they didnt bother. Maybe they did. How they dressed: sexy and tough. Ye tried not to look. Cops were there. Dad too, although maybe he wasnt and it was just him himself and slow along the corridor, who are you looking at staring at me? That was them, sexy, but they would just say whatever, Murdo, seeing the lassies, and that one seeing him, just how she shifted, how she stood, shifting, seeing him, short short skirt and him just looking to see, seeing her: and her looking at him like that, who are you looking at, and her legs just like short short skirt just beautiful, stretching up, her thighs there and just like raising her skirt was she raising her skirt? maybe she was, seeing if he was there if he was looking, if he was seeing; he was, her pants tugging down, and even if she wasnt wearing any, she wasnt wearing any, maybe she wasnt; and he was looking and seeing and she knew he was, he was there and she saw him, it was him she was looking at, and he was just like — because with her short skirt riding higher, that was her too just seeing him, looking at him and just seeing him, and still doing it, she was still doing it and it was him, she was looking at him.

He was awake and on his back lying there. The dampness.

He raised himself onto his elbows. A sliver of light through the ceiling window. He had to go to the bathroom. He lay back down.

He had to go.

What time was it? It didnt matter. He reached out for the bedside lamp; dampness and sticky. He got up from the mattress, left the basement door open to light the staircase. In the bathroom he used toilet paper and cold water to wipe clean the semen. That was it if it touched the sheets or the duvet. A wet dream because he wouldnt wank. But wet dreams were terrible because ye didnt know, they just happened and there was nothing ye could do, it was always just like wakening up, oh I need to go I need to go and that was that ye came, it was hopeless.

Back downstairs he left on the light and was in fast between the sheets, but without switching on the hi-fi. It was a thing that happened so that was that and ye would dry in the dampness. Stupid jumbles not even making sense. Ye just hug and the girl fits and if yer bodies fit then they fit. Ye see the shapes, ye dont need to because it is like ye are built for it, ye just fit in and the girl takes ye in, just sliding. Oh jees. The lassie fits into you and you fit into the lassie. That is the design: male and female.

Sarah too, not to think of her like that, because like her family, if ye know somebody’s family, ye dont want to think of her that way like bodies and yer arm round her pressing her in, nude, and just feeling her and if she’s pressing

*

They were going to the shopping mall. Aunt Maureen had booked a cab for 11 a.m. It was good to be going but Murdo’s head was elsewhere. He put his shoes on at the door and went outside to wait on the porch. Dad was already there, sitting on the bench by the wall. Taxi’s due, he said.

Right.

Dad noticed he was wearing a T-shirt. Maybe ye should put on something else, he said.

Dad it’s fresh.

Yeah I’m not talking about that, it gets chilly in the mall because of the air conditioning, Aunt Maureen was saying. People catch colds; they

Murdo didnt wait for the next bit. Back in the house he took off his shoes and downstairs to the basement. He switched on the music to a particular track he was listening to. It was on the second of the CDs, the one with the other musicians. Just the most soulful sound ye could get and an accordeon too it was a knock-out.

A sound like that, ye just didnay expect it, just how he had it, he really had it. In learning a tune there was “a thing to get”. Once ye “got it” you were fast away and could go at it and play to it and do most whatever ye wanted with it. It was not only the tune but a certain thing that gives ye more than that. When ye got that ye could go with it. Anywhere at all. Ye were just free and could do anything.

He took off the T-shirt, found a proper shirt and put it on — and took it back off, the waste of a shirt, wearing it to a mall. It was Joe Harkins said about “the thing to get”. Joe played mandolin and was pretty brilliant. He played with the band for a few weeks. Mum was there and coming to gigs at the time so that was a year ago. She liked the sound they were getting. She said it was different.

It was different: Joe!

People said he was a cool guy but it was the way he pushed ye on. And ye had to go with him. Ye had to. It was the real stuff and ye knew it was. There were good clips of him on YouTube but what ye saw was what ye saw and not like how it was from the inside. Ye didnay get that anywhere, that was like inside their heads. Ye had to play with people for that.

Joe was out on his own. Ye got left behind if ye werent careful and if that happened too much it was like Joe shut down, he went cold. If he had to go alone he shut down. That was bad, a player like Joe. Ye didnay want that happening. Imagine a band where the lead guy stops in the middle and says, I’m away home.

Ye got that tingle playing with him and ye didnt forget it. How could ye? Why else would ye be doing it? Ye thought that to yerself: this is a real band. That is what ye felt. That was Joe. When he was there ye had to go for it. Once ye got it ye could go for it all, just bloody go for it all, so like ye were bursting, and ye would see Joe maybe nodding his head, eyes closed.

Murdo! Murdo!

The taxi. Dad shouting on him from the top of the stairs.

It was true but, if ye couldnay cut it with Joe maybe ye couldnt ever, and that is how ye would be. Murdo put the T-shirt back on and grabbed his jacket, switched off the hi-fi and went fast upstairs. Dad waited by the front door ready to lock up. Aunt Maureen was in the cab. Sorry about that Dad. Murdo pulled on his trainers.

Dad nodded.

In the cab he sat next to the driver who yapped on about space museums and railway museums and drive-in movie houses that were as good as anything ye could find anywhere and served traditional ice-cream, glancing over his shoulder at Aunt Maureen as though ice-cream interested her in particular.

The road was complicated with roundabouts and flyovers. They had three and four lanes for traffic and drivers on the inside drove faster than ones on the outside. The worst was a guy whizzing along in and out, not bothering even to pamp his horn. Aunt Maureen called from the rear: Look at that. One finger on the wheel.

According to Dad the aisle seat on the bus was preferable to the window seat because ye didnt have to look out. It was too stressful seeing the crazy drivers. The driver didnt say anything. He heard Dad’s voice and knew he was foreign. The nearer to the mall along both sides of the road were restaurants and free-standing stores. Different buildings; some fancy-shaped with round roofs and new-looking red bricks. Dad paid the fare. Aunt Maureen didnt want him to but he did.

They walked between department store buildings and it was good shade. Hot but not too hot. Aunt Maureen led them into one huge store, straight through and out the other side, into the main shopping area. Two huge-long floors of department stores. People going round and round. Women with babies and kids; old people too, and power-walkers. In one place there was a huge imitation rocket ship. Kids climbed to the top then slid all the way down on a chute. Other entertainments; an ice-rink and either two cinemas or one, and did they have an indoor golf course? Aunt Maureen said they did but it sounded fantastic. She didnt come much to this mall. When she did she made the most of it. She had favourite stores and shops and enjoyed going in for a look. Most were for clothes and fancy household items. For the pot-luck tonight she needed plastic cutlery and napkins; paper plates, paper cups and paper glasses. After eating ye just dumped everything into the bin.

After the first couple of stores Murdo stayed outside. So did Dad who had brought a book and usually there were seats. Up on the first floor Murdo leaned on the barrier seeing over and down to the ground level. Along was a larger-than-life model of a guy playing electric guitar. It was fixed at the entrance to a store. Surely a music store? Murdo couldnt quite make it out. Hey Dad, he said, look! A music store!

Dad glanced up from his book, shifted on the bench to see. Murdo pointed down and along to it. Ye think I could have some money I mean eh…?

Dad paused a moment. Okay, he said. He took dollar notes from his pocket and peeled off a $10. Much ye talking about?

I dont know.

Dad peeled off another $10 and passed him the $20. He stood up and peered over the barrier. Below was busy with people but the model of the musician was visible. Dad said, Ye sure it’s a music store?

Well what else?

Dad shrugged. Why dont ye wait till Aunt Maureen comes back?

I was only going for a look.

Yeah. She’ll be here in a minute.

…

Murdo she’ll be here in a minute. Then we’ll come with ye. One minute. Just one minute. I dont want us missing each other.

Murdo nodded.

This place is massive son.

Yeah. Murdo made to hand back the money. Dad looked at the two ten dollar notes. Naw, he said, hang onto it. As soon as Aunt Maureen comes we’ll go.

Dad I’m not bothered.

Aw for God sake.

Really. I’ll go another time.

Dad sighed. Murdo held out the money. Here, he said.

Right, said Dad and took it.

Murdo turned from him, leaning his elbows on the barrier. Dad sat down and opened the book. It was good to read a book. Dad liked doing that. What did Murdo like? Nothing. Nothing was good. Nothing was the best of all. Dad gave him nothing and that was what he wanted. From Dad anyway. Who cares? He saw the shop and out it came. He just opened his mouth and out it came, the first thing in his head. Better not talking at all.

Aunt Maureen reappeared. She chatted while they walked. Murdo stayed a pace behind so it was Dad she was chatting to. The next store had no seats. She left her bags next to where they were standing. Dad took out his book and was reading in the space of two seconds. Two seconds. Murdo stood still. He could only stand there. People scream. He didnt. Memories of boyhood, shopping with Mum and Eilidh and the agony, the agony. Stand there and be quiet. Be quiet. Stand. All ye could do. Clothes and clothes and clothes, and clothes and clothes and clothes — and that smell and how the lights were, the glare, people banging into ye. I’m goni scream I’m goni scream I’m goni scream. Although he might have slept, here, if Dad had allowed it. Dad wouldnt. He could read standing up but sleeping was barred. Ye could read but not sleep. Bad manners.

He could have brought a book. The cowboy one, he could have brought that. How come he didnt? Because he was going out. Stay in the house if ye want to read. In is in and out is out. Ye didnt go out to read a book. What about a sexy one, if he had brought that?

Before long Aunt Maureen was there. Murdo and Dad carried bags for her. A couple she carried herself. There’s things in them I dont want bashing, she said.

They headed along to the food court. There was a choice of places. A Mexican one looked good. Mexican’s spicy, said Aunt Maureen. Your Uncle likes spicy. That’s why he’s got the bad stomach. She led them to an empty table by a delicatessen. Once upon a time you got a real bit of dinner here, she said. Not now you dont. A sandwich is good for me. See if they got turkey Tommy, or chicken.

Murdo? said Dad.

Is it a sandwich?

Whatever.

So a sandwich?

Dad stared at him.

Tuna please. Or cheese. Chicken. Murdo shrugged.

So ye dont have a preference?

No Dad, just anything, thanks.

Dad walked to place the order. Aunt Maureen was checking through her purchases and receipts, and talking at the same time: Some folks spend their lives in here, huh. Then you got the walkers. Twice round the mall then it’s lunchtime, another twice and that’s them done their day’s exercise. There’s folks come here in the morning dont go home till evening. You believe that? They spend their life right here. Dont buy a thing; they just walk about, dont do nothing. Dont work. Nothing. They got their entitlements, you know what entitlements are son?

Murdo didnt reply and Aunt Maureen’s attention was distracted by two young women arriving at a nearby table, one pushing a buggy with a baby inside. They were maybe from China or a country roundabout there, both wearing tight jeans. They didnt look over but just sat down, fixing the baby. Aunt Maureen wasnt quiet in talking so they could have heard what she was saying. Maybe they were just walking about, like if Aunt Maureen was referring to them. Maybe they thought that. If they did they were wrong, very wrong. Aunt Maureen would never have said any such thing, and now was away talking again.

The elder girl lifted the baby out of the buggy. The baby didnt laugh but stared at the mother — if she was the mother. Aunt Maureen was saying about how things used to be when this mall was first built and how it had changed so much. But she stopped talking. It was the baby, how she stared at the baby, even like she wanted to lift it up. Jees, imagine she did, just reaching to lift it. Oh my, she said, he is a beauty. He is a true beauty, that is what he is.

But she kept on staring. The young women exchanged looks. They were more like girls. The younger one fingered her necklace. She was about Murdo’s age. He could see the side of her face and just like the position she was sitting, as if she could maybe see him out the corner of her eye and how she was fingering her necklace again. How come? She was sexy-looking. That was the truth. Was she going to look at Murdo. Maybe. Maybe she didnt because with Aunt Maureen there and talking. Dad too, Dad was back, distributing the stuff, sandwiches and drinks, napkins, plastic forks. Extra salad with the cheese sandwich, and potato crisps. Murdo took his sandwich and gobbled it down fast. A lumpy bit stuck in his throat. He took it out to see. An orangey kind of thing. He left it at the side of his plate, drank some juice.

Dad looking at him. Murdo bit another piece of the sandwich. He wanted to leave the table but if he went too soon it was like he was still in a bad mood because of the music store. And he wasnt. He really wasnt, he just wanted away, just to walk about, on his own, he just wanted like — his own space.

He needed to tell Dad about the gig. Sometime he did. If he didnt he wouldnt know about it, and that wasnt fair. Okay if Dad said no, but he needed the chance.

The young women were chatting together, and Aunt Maureen too, to Dad, but including Murdo in it, just stuff about how it used to be way back. Murdo smiled, a kind of smile, if it was a smile. Smiles are just whatever, ye give one.

*

They were home by two thirty. Dad and Murdo offered to help Aunt Maureen prepare and she told them not to bother. It’s a pot-luck, she said, nobody’s going to worry too much. Then at four thirty her friends Josie and Melissa arrived early and helped her prepare the dining-room area. Melissa was Dave Arnott’s wife. Dave came later with his daughter and son-in-law and their children.

People all brought food in bowls ready to eat. This was the pot-luck side of it. Ye came and ye took pot-luck. Whatever people brought was what ye ate. It was a good idea. Most were neighbours but a few had traveled a distance and were maybe connected to the same church as Aunt Maureen. The food was spread out on the dining table; some of it on the side cupboards and kitchen counter. Murdo was hungry but nobody was eating.

The women stayed around the kitchen and dining area while the men were outside on the patio and garden, drinking beer out bottles and smoking if they smoked. Two conversations were on the go with the men. Dad and Dave Arnott in one: Uncle John in the other. Murdo sat roughly between them but was glad Uncle John drew him in to his. It was difficult in company with Dad and people at the same time.

Uncle John was wanting to talk about stuff to do with Scotland, and not family stuff. Murdo was glad. Ye get it out yer head then it is all back in. An older man held onto his hand. Yeah, gotta be brave. Before him Aunt Maureen’s friend Josie gave him a hug and said, Oh now son she’s in a better place! talking about Mum, which was the kind of thing drove him nuts. It wasnt just daft it was worse than that. Although she was being nice, of course she was, obviously, and ye just had to act like it made sense, although it didnt, it was just like mental madness.

Oh yes isnt she lucky, passing on to a better place. He should have said that. At school the Headteacher broadcast a message of sympathy “for Murdo whose mother has passed on”.

Passing on to a better place. The coffin is pushed into the furnace. Oh isnt she lucky. Maybe we can all go! After death comes life. A dead person going. Death comes after life and life comes after death. So death is not death.

Two kinds of life: before death and after death. After-life is after-death. Dead but not dead is vampires. The undead. Then Hell with all the demons. Imagine that was true. That would be the “unlucky soul”, oh the unlucky soul, he’s dead and going to Hell.

What if ye do something good in Hell? Do they take ye out and put ye in Heaven? What if ye do something bad in Heaven? Do they take ye out and put ye in Hell? How do ye get from one place to another?

Uncle John and the men were talking about work. To them it was interesting. Murdo would have skipped downstairs but it was too early for that and would have annoyed Dad. But it was okay to leave the company, surely?

He stepped down from the patio, and walked to where he did the sunbathing. It was good here; a thick hedge and a high hedge so if ye wanted shade from the sun ye could get it. The earth was hard, and dry grass, different grass. Ye think of grass all being the same but it wasnt.

On parts of the hedge it was like dew had already gathered. Slimy stuff, soapy. Cobwebs glinted. Whatever spiders they had here, probably various species, maybe poisonous ones. Murdo had gone online before leaving Scotland and there was this tiny spider could fire a line of mesh twenty-five metres across a river. Although maybe that wasnt Alabama. He walked on a bit to where the hedge thinned out. Ye could have made a hole to crawl through, and escape. Except if it landed ye in the next door neighbours’ garden. Uncle John said the buggers were liable to shoot ye stone dead, and would be justified in a court of law because you would be seen as an intruder and they would be protecting their property.

Two of Dave Arnott’s wee grandkids appeared less than ten feet away. Murdo pretended not to see them, two wee girls. He bent to study the grass. He picked out one stem and concentrated on it. He held it so that they could watch. He parted the stem of grass midway along the centre, aligned it within his thumbs and blew into it. A slight rasping noise was all it managed. He tried again but it wasnt working and he dropped the grass stem suddenly, as though frightened by something in the hedge. Jeesoh! he said.

The girls stepped closer. What you looking at in there? said the elder one.

Ssh.

What you looking at?

A tiny wee creature.

They were puzzled. They maybe didnt understand his voice. It’s a tiny tiny animal, he said, pointing in behind the leaves. It’s in there hiding.

The girls looked to see and the bigger one crouched to peer in. Murdo looked from one to the other and put on a scary voice: Maybe it is not so tiny. Maybe it is a big giant bear. A big big giant bear…!

The girls shrieked. Murdo made big eyes at them, and stepped closer, raising his hands: A very very big…big…big big bear. Waaaahhhhh!

They laughed loudly and raced off a short distance. Murdo also laughed. The two girls approached to see what he would do next. They saw their father strolling down from the patio, a phone in his hand: Dave Arnott’s son-in-law, who lifted a ball on the way and threw it over their heads. They chased after the ball while he strolled on, studying the phone. He stood a moment then called to Murdo: How’s it going?

Fine.

You John’s relation?

Yeah.

So what you work at?

I’m still at school.

School, huh. Okay. You like it?

No. Murdo chuckled.

So uh where you from? you from someplace?

Scotland.

Scotland, huh. That’s like a long trip?

Murdo shrugged. Had to go from Glasgow via Amsterdam, then non-stop to Memphis.

Memphis; cool. The guy snapped his fingers. Oh now, I got it, the bus connection! You stayed over Allentown, Mississippi?

Yeah. One night

One night huh. You see a white face?

Murdo looked at him. After a moment he said, Do ye mean eh…a white face in Allentown like did I see one? Do ye mean did I see one?

The guy didnt reply; his attention drifted from Murdo and over the other end of the garden, where his daughters were playing near a broken-down shed. The guy said, Ever been to Shreveport? One time I was like headed down the I-20, landed in Yazoo City. Yazoo City man they all play the yazoo there.

Pardon?

We got relations in Shreveport, on my own mother’s side. Her people come from Oklahoma City. Moved to Shreveport like way way back, a long time ago. He stepped sideways and gazed around the garden. His daughters werent in sight. Girls must have gone inside huh, looking for food.

Murdo nodded.

Hey you listen to Pete?

Pardon?

Pete Marshall? You dont get Pete where you come from, WROT? Radio?

No, I dont think so. My Dad would know.

Oh now Pete’s real funny; a real funny guy. He tells it like it is, he thinks something he comes right out and says it. He’s got like a political line to gospel man he’ll let you know it. He wont pull back on that.

His attention was distracted. The girls had reappeared by the broken-down shed with an old hosepipe. The older one flung the heavy end of it in the direction of the younger one and it would have hurt if it landed. The guy frowned. You got kids?

Me…

He suddenly pointed his finger at Murdo. I know you! I know who you are! Oh man I know you! Hey man I’m Conor, you’re uh

Murdo.

Murdo yeah: you got the little girl passed on. That is the saddest thing. He moved as if to shake hands.

I think ye mean my sister. Murdo said, Ye’re mixing me up with my father. It’s my father’s daughter that died, she was my sister.

Your sister, yeah. Okay. I got that. And your mother huh? Yeah, I got that. Man that is the saddest thing ever. Old Dave was telling me about that. Your sister and your mother. Yeah, I got that now.

Conor reached to shake Murdo’s hand. He gripped it and didnt let it go. He kept on gripping it, so so tightly, just staring in at him and his eyes piercing, piercing in like how people say, his eyes “pierced” like a sharp point digging in to make a wee hole to see in behind yer eyes behind yer skin, not into yer mind but someplace else, if there is some kind of other place there and a thing inside it, eyes piercing their way in. That was this guy Conor. He kept his grip on Murdo’s hand and Murdo couldnt take it away. That was the horrible thing. He didnt try to but knew he couldnt. This damn guy, he was too strong. His grip was too strong and bloody powerful and it was horrible. It was even painful! Jeesoh. His eyes too! He was just a nutter.

He stopped it and let go Murdo’s hand, patted him on the side of the arm. Murdo didnt rub or massage his hand but he folded his arms. He kept looking at the guy and was not going to look away.

You are John’s nephew. I know who you are. Your name is uh…

Murdo.

Murdo, yeah. Moved here from Scotland huh. You got Tom too?

He’s my father.

Yeah. Conor slowly nodded his head. Sister and mother, yeah…that is the way of this world. People dont know it. They never know it! I’m talking what’s in store for them up yonder. He pointed up to the sky. The future is what I mean. We walk this road and what do we see? Nothing. A road is heavy with blood and we see nothing. A blood-stained road and we are as blind men. That old road is mapped out man we just dont like read it, we dont see the signs man. You dont see a thing how can you read it? You need to see a thing before you can read it. Aint possible otherwise Murdo.

Murdo watched him.

You think life is fair?

What?

You think life is fair?

Who me?

You, yeah: you think it is fair?

Me? Do I think life is fair?

Let me tell you man it aint fair. No sir. You expect that you are misguided; you are seriously misguided, one seriously misguided human being.

Out the corner of his eye Murdo saw Uncle John on the patio again, laughing at something. But Dad wasnt there, maybe he was in getting food. Down the far side one of the wee girls was tossing a ball onto the roof of the shed. Murdo hoped Conor would notice so if he did it would shift his mind from wherever, so he would go away.

He patted Murdo on the side of the arm again then glanced at his phone, scrolled down for a moment. No sir, you dont read the signs you will stay blind: deaf, dumb and blind. What you got to do is grow up, you got to grow up. I’m talking here: Conor tapped the side of his head. And here… tapping his chest.

Then he smiled as if everything was just friendly conversation and it was Murdo’s turn to talk. That was like ha ha, did he honestly believe Murdo was stupid enough to fall for it? It just made ye angry. He would never have spoken like that to Dad. None of the men. He wouldnay have dared. Just Murdo. Murdo was a kid. Say what ye like do what ye like. Now he stepped towards Murdo as though to shake hands with him. Pleasure talking with you, he said.

The real pleasure was him going away. Murdo would like to have said something but said nothing. It was the wee girls ye felt sorry for.

Bad manners and good manners. Good manners is being nice to them with bad manners. You fit into them and all their crap. Gab gab gab. So all ye can do is nod yer head. Murdo was sick of that. They could speak and you couldnt. They had the right; you didnay. That was this life, all the shit stuff ye ever could get. Imagine the worst, then a plus 1. Ye were to talk but not talk. Not to talk but talk. That summed it up. Oh hullo yes it’s a nice day Mum’s got a tumour and she’s dying. That was the funeral too, people speaking to you but you werent to speak to them except Yes, I’m fine. Everything’s good, Mum’s in the coffin, bla bla bla.

Back home ye would go home. I hate this party I’m away.

Where was Dad? Down in the garden slugging a beer. Him and Dave Arnott — old Dave, that was what Conor called him.

Uncle John had the bottle of whisky out which Dad brought him as a present. He was showing it to the other guys. Dad in the background, Dad smiling. Old Dad. It was good seeing him in company. Mum used to worry. Oh is he going to be okay? She wouldnt be there to look after him. Dad could get upset, too upset, too angry. Mum worried. Murdo should thank his lucky stars Dad didnt manage to many gigs. What a nightmare if he had! If anybody spoke when Murdo was playing. Dad wouldnt have coped with that. He would have gone round the dancehall telling folk to shut up and listen. That was Dad, according to Mum. Here he was part of the company. That was unusual. Him and Uncle John, they just chatted about stuff to do with the family and back home in Scotland how it was going to be for the future, for politics and for religion and football. Uncle John liked hearing about Rangers and Celtic, especially Rangers beating Celtic — and Clyde and Partick Thistle too and Hearts and Hibs and Aberdeen and all the teams because ye didnt get anything about it in the States, only English teams, Spanish teams, French teams, German, Italian; what happened to Scotland? That was the issue. All the old players. Uncle John loved that and Dad could do it.

Murdo wished he was home. Here ye couldnay breathe. Space and hills, the sea. Imagine a boat and just like getting out on the water. Nothing big, just breathing, Oh I just want to breathe I’m away on the bike, Ardentinny or someplace, just great.

At least the garden was here. Without the garden he would have been trapped.

He was hungry. A couple of the men were eating. He would have to talk to people and he didnt want to. How was he feeling?

Maybe angry.

No. Like he had been in a fight. Imagine a fight. Battered, that is how he felt, and lying down is what he felt like doing. His bed preferably but the grass would do except the mosquitoes. Always worse when the sun set and it was that now. He wanted down the basement and couldnt go because it was bad manners. Dad. Dad this Dad that. But at least he was relaxed. Here he was just in company with the other guys, and that was something. Really, it was: Dad, relaxed. Dad relaxed Dad relaxed Dad relaxed. Ye could imagine it a tune, jazz cornet, nice and bluesy mellow, Heyyy… Daaad…yeahh…Daaad…heyyyy…yeahh… Or that classical guy on solo piano, that slow rippling.

Usually it was Dad nervy. If Murdo had been in the company then poor Dad, he would have been watching for everything; if somebody told a joke and used swear-words in the telling, or if it was a joke about sex like if the guy was too open about women or if it was like homophobic or racist. Back home there were two brothers lived along the street from them. If Murdo and Dad were together it was a minor disaster meeting them downtown because they got so excited about football and everything was “fuck” this and “fuck” that and Dad couldnay cope because Murdo was there and Murdo couldnay cope with Dad no coping with him and it was like yer nerves just got so so frazzled — frazzled was a good word, making ye think of sizzling ends snapping about on a hot plate. Sausages!

People were to get food when they wanted but so far he hadnt been able to. A couple of the guys had chicken legs and plates of a salad sort of rice thing and French bread. Crusty French bread was great.

Murdo cut through the garden, round the far side of the patio and along the driveway, past the 4x4. He could even go in there and sit. Uncle John left the door open. Instead he walked round to the bench on the front porch.

He sat down on it. Ye could actually see the mosquitoes! That way when the light hits at a certain angle and ye see them all going crazy. Bats would come out. They had twelve different kinds of bats here. They fed on mosquitoes. Bats were like spiders: ye were glad to see them. If it wasnay for bats ye would get eaten alive. That was midges back home. Teeth-bodies. If ye zoomed an image of one online it was like the worst pre-Jurassic terror-beast imaginable: a flying Velociraptor, all teeth and snapping outside yer window. Millions of them. All zig-zagging. Did they ever bump into each other. Maybe they did. Although sound and radar working in the one system. Airwaves. Everything all over the world; all connected. Billions of connections, all avoiding one another. Each on its own individual path or trail. More like a trail because some of it ye make up as ye go along. Whereas a path is laid out for ye. Ye follow a path like ye follow a tune where ye cannot deviate: ye have to play it the way it is always played. Always the same and always the same. That was the one way always the true way.

Murdo hated that style of playing. Of all the hate he hated that was the most, because it was the worst. Maybe not the very worst.

Guys spoke about jazz but it is not just jazz, ye can make a trail out of anything, anything at all. He did it with the “Blue Danube Waltz”. For Mum, making her laugh. She told Dad and Dad said, We’ll call it the “Grey Clyde Waltz”. She laughed at that too, the quiet laugh she had. Nobody else in the world had that one, like a gurgle up from the throat and tiny air bubbles beeble beeble beeble — some kind of thing, ye could never have got that, be be be be, how did ye get that? And then it was gone. Mum was gone. So that was her laugh gone too.

So if it was a racist joke did it mean the guy was racist? Maybe. People said things. They did it at school too like they were testing ye. If ye laughed ye were racist if ye didnay ye werenay. So are you racist? No, I was just testing you.

Sorry Dave but yer son-in-law is an arsehole.

Naybody else bothers. You get angry and everybody else thinks it is okay. Oh look at Murdo he’s angry, how come he’s angry! Oh he likes that lassie, if he didnay like her it would be okay, just like a black face in Allentown, what is that? so what, people have thoughts that are just like the craziest craziest shit. They dont even know ye but think things about ye. Oh I’ll say it to him he looks easy. How come?

At the same time ye got sick of it, just sick of it, and away from here before somebody came. He got up and tried the front door but it was locked. He had to pass round the back entrance in through the patio. He gave Dad a wee wave in passing. Women were there by the kitchen counter and the dining room table. He continued through to the bathroom. The door was locked. He walked downstairs, and shut the door, and if there had been a snib on the door he would have locked the thing! He felt like a Cherokee Indian. This was his place and here he was buried, except buried alive.

*

The knock at the door, however long after. Half an hour. It was Aunt Maureen. Murdo blinked. He had the music low but kept off the light. She said, I want you upstairs son you got to meet the women. They want to meet you.

She waited outside the door. Aunt Maureen. Sometimes he felt he loved her. She loved him. He knew she did. That was an amazing thing.

There were seven women, cheery and friendly-looking, and a baby slept in a buggy. Aunt Maureen named and pointed out each of the women: Josie and Melissa, then Liz, Emma-Louise, Katherine, Ann-Marie and Nicole who was Melissa’s daughter. Josie said, Hey Murdo how are you?

Fine.

Murdo’s always fine, said Aunt Maureen. You ask him that’s what he’ll say. I’m fine. Oh I’m fine. She dragged a dining chair to beside her own near the fire-surround: Now Murdo here’s grandmother was John’s sister. Her name was Effie and she was a beautiful lovely person. She took us to church there in Scotland, it was the Parish Presbyterian. Murdo here’s got some fine fine memories of her. That right son?

Yeah.

John’s been trying to persuade him and his father to come stay permanent.

The women looked at Murdo, waiting for him to speak. But he knew nothing about this. Nobody had spoken to him. So it should have been Murdo to ask Aunt Maureen the question. Liz said, So you want to come live here Murdo?

Eh…

A big step huh?

Murdo smiled.

It aint plain sailing, said Josie. You got the red tape nowadays.

Sure but the family connection, said Aunt Maureen. Plenty others get in dont even talk the language.

You got that right, said Josie.

Aunt Maureen indicated one of the women: Liz is Welsh.

Way back in the mists of time, said Liz. I dont cling to it.

Sure, said Aunt Maureen. John says Scottish half and half but his boys aint half anything they are American.

Family’s important, said Emma-Louise.

Huh! said Josie.

What you saying family dont count?

No now I aint saying that, just not like it was. It dont pay to be ordinary. Come from India and it’ll be okay, come from Vietnam and Haiti, Korea, Russia what do they get, tax free for five years? WIC, food stamps!

My Lord. Aunt Maureen reached to hold Murdo’s hand for a moment.

Emma-Louise said, So Murdo how do you like being here?

I do.

Oh you do huh!

Yeah.

Another of the women laughed, Ann-Marie. It’s his voice! she said. I love that voice. Is that the Scottish voice?

Well what else is it gonna be? asked Emma-Louise.

I dont know! Ann-Marie laughed again.

Aunt Maureen was squeezing Murdo’s hand, and she kept a hold of it. She looked around the women. Him and his father have had it tough, she said, I got to say. You all met Tom, huh, his little daughter passed on? Murdo here’s little sister. Now his mother, his own sweet mother, poor soul, she’s with Jesus now.

The women gazed at him. He was going to say how Eilidh was his big sister and not his little sister.

Sure hard to take, said Emma-Louise. Didnt you say it’s hereditary Maureen?

Through the female line.

You’ll have the memories Murdo. Josie nodded. Oh yes you will, she said.

The others smiled, expecting him to say something, but what about? He couldnt say anything. Memories. He didnt want to say anything about memories. Eilidh wasnt a memory. He had taken his hand out from beneath Aunt Maureen’s; he folded his arms briefly. He wanted to speak but was not going to except like it had be cleared up otherwise

otherwise what? It just wasnt true and it was Eilidh. Murdo said to Aunt Maureen: She was actually my big sister Aunt Maureen like I mean she was coming up for twelve when she died, I was nine.

Huh? What did I say?

No just eh she was my little sister, but really she was older, she was my big sister. She was a great girl Aunt Maureen. I dont like people talking about her.

Oh.

I dont mind if I’m not there. It’s only like when I’m there, as soon as they speak, she disappears. It begins with her then she’s gone.

Well you dont have to talk about her now son.

Murdo kept his head lowered, not looking at the other women. Aunt Maureen was squeezing his hand again. It’s because memories, he said, I dont like that about memories. It’s just what I feel, memories are for other people. They arent to do with me and her. I think about her every day. Ye know I mean every day. I mean every single one.

Oh son.

It’s not memories, she’s just here. Murdo glanced at the other women. They were listening. Ye hear it in songs, I’ll always be with ye, and it’s true. Eilidh is always with me. She was my big sister and she is my big sister and it makes ye cry thinking about it. I know it does. Murdo shrugged. I cant help it. I cant stop it and I dont care. If she wasnay there when my Mum died I dont know what would have happened. It was Eilidh got me through it. Not even my father, he couldnt have managed it, never. It was only Eilidh. Murdo shook his head and he stared at the carpet. It doesnt matter about God and Jesus and that stuff, I’m sorry, people say about passed on and she’s with Jesus, I’m sorry but she’s not, she’s with me. Me. She had her own life. It was her unique one. My big sister, she was a great girl and a real person. She’s my big sister, that is what she is.

Murdo was not going to cry but he felt like it. So now he had spoken. That was that. He wished he hadnt but he had. That was Aunt Maureen.

Because she was a great lady. The best auntie it was possible ever to get. Imagine being annoyed at Aunt Maureen! Never. That was ha ha ha, never ever ever. Only he needed to say it about Eilidh. Otherwise it was not her. If it was not Eilidh he didnt want to talk. She was not a memory. If he spoke about her like she was one then she was. She wasnt, she was his sister and a real girl, a real great girl; that is what she was and never never never, he was not ever ever going to let it go. Why should he? Ye just get angry, so so angry, bloody talking and talking, people talking.

That was that and nothing more. The women looking at him. Then Josie about her own family — not from the old days, she didnt like the old days; she was saying about a farm she knew and some of the women were smiling and joining in talking so like Murdo could just go quiet, close down, ye think of closing down, and seeing Melissa looking at him and her daughter too like how she was just staring and as if it was him she was staring at, and he looked back at her, just seeing and it was like him, it was him she was staring at, how her blouse pulled back too it was like her skin through it, her actual skin, because it was just like so thin white the material and even like her nipples like it was her actual nipples

twinges and twinges

she was shifting on her seat, changing how she was sitting — Nicole — she blinked a couple of times and something or other he didnt know except just blushing he was blushing oh God he was blushing if she was staring at him: she was.

It was not actual “staring” at all, she was just waiting for him to speak.

Murdo sat forwards on the chair. They were expecting him to talk about what Emma-Louise had said. What had Emma-Louise said? Melissa too, looking at him, encouraging him. It was nice of her. Dave Arnott’s wife. Nicole was her daughter. If she saw him blushing. She must have. Aunt Maureen touched his hand: It was your Uncle Robert son huh? Didnt he go checking it out?

My Uncle Robert. Yes eh…

It was hereditary huh?

Yeah. He said how the tumour never came to men. So they werent doing the research. If it was reversed roles, and the tumour only affected men then they would have done the research. Especially if it was rich ones. They would pay the money to save their own skin. My Uncle Robert said that.

Emma-Louise said, Doctors here dont do their work.

That is a fact of life, said Josie.

A sick person’s got more chance seeing the Governor of this state. What do they give you? A nurse is what they give you. Least that’s what they call them. But they aint nurses, not proper ones like what you would say, a nurse.

You got that right, said Josie.

My own mother was lying there, Emma-Louise said. She was skin and bone. Were they cleaning her? No they were not. Can you believe it?

I can believe it, said Josie.

They would not clean her and would not feed her. My Lord that was a hard hard time. Sure we got support, but not from them.

The door opened and the two wee girls entered. Their father was behind them. Nicole was up from her chair and peering at the wall clock. She leaned to see into the baby buggy. The two girls came to Melissa who was their grandmother. Nicole was their mother, she was the guy’s wife. He stayed by the doorway, phone in hand.

Emma-Louise continued talking: Not one sip of water did they give her; they denied it to her. I wanted to give her a drink and they would not let me. I told them. I said you know all this is? It’s money, you all are cutting corners, running down costs, you think I dont know that! I know it.

The younger woman had lifted up the baby and was sniffing its nappy. Liz winked at the other women and called, She dry Nicole?

She is. Nicole tucked the baby in between the sheets.

Liz called to Conor: How’s your mother keeping Conor?

Good.

Liz smiled. Conor had raised his head and glanced around the room, passing over Murdo. Then he looked back at Murdo as though seeing him for the first time. He folded his arms, but stood there quite relaxed. Mister Cool. That was the way he was standing. If the women didnt see it. Acting like he was the big boss showing them all! He had tried to bully Murdo in the garden and now he was doing it here. In front of everybody. The guy was a bully. It sickened ye. Guys ye have never seen in yer life before and they still try to bully ye. They dont even know who ye are like ye could be the best fighter in the whole world! They dont know anything about ye but they still try to bully ye, and they do bully ye. This guy bullied Murdo in the garden. Now here he was doing it again in front of all the women. Murdo was young so he thought he could get away with it. So arrogant, totally stupid too because ye dont know who ye are talking to. Somebody could take out a gun and shoot ye.

Aunt Maureen touched Murdo on the wrist. A woman who hadnt spoken before was attracting his attention. Murdo smiled at her and she said, How do you like it here Murdo?

I like it fine.

You do huh?

Yeah.

Well we sure like having you here, she said.

Murdo grinned, although he needed to get away. Only because he was edgy. He got up from the chair and said quietly to Aunt Maureen. I’m going through for something to eat.

Aunt Maureen gripped his hand for a moment.

Melissa and the wee girls were with Nicole and the baby now. Conor stood to the side of the door to let Murdo through. He might have escaped downstairs altogether except he thought to grab some food on the way. Uncle John was in the kitchen. He had a beer tucked under his left arm and was manoeuvring two heavy-looking trays of food toward the edge of the kitchen counter. One held platefuls of chicken pieces and sausage rolls, and the other piles of sandwiches. Murdo took the tray with the sandwiches. He held the dining room door open for Uncle John, followed him to the patio table. They set down the food. Thanks Murdo boy… Uncle John winked while ripping a beer from the pack. Thirsty work this talking! he said to the men seated there. Know what they call it back home? Blethers. Ye’re blethering. Ye’re all blethering. Some people’s a believer, I’m a bletherer. Eh Murdo?

Murdo grinned.

Uncle John glared at him. Insubordination! He gestured at a spare chair.

I’m going to go through just now.

Aye aye cap’n. Uncle John saluted him.

Down from the patio Dad was with Dave Arnott who was speaking to him. Dad listened but was watching Murdo at the same time. Murdo gestured at the trays of food, lifted two sandwiches and continued on into the house. People were in the kitchen and dining area, he walked through and downstairs.

*

He heard the bathroom door close and his hand reached to the volume control but it could hardly be lower. Back home he could blast it! Just blast it.

Here was here. Here is where he was. He couldnt stay down forever.

Where’s Murdo! Oh God maybe he’s fallen down a pit! There’s a black hole below the basement and he’s fallen down! Ohhh dohhhh ohhhh ohhhh. Scary! “Fallen-down-the-pit” music, a cello, ohhh dohhhh ohhhh ohhhh, scraping yer knees, ohhhh ohhh ohhhh, dohhh dohhh dohhh.

Although if he had had a guitar, a guitar would have been good. Anything at all. What he was missing was being able to play. There was the music store at the mall, if there had been any instruments. A whistle or a mouth organ. A kid’s keyboard, a xylophone. What did ye get for twenty dollars?

Foot creaks from above. He lowered the volume again. But there couldnt be any lower, except minus 1, the infinitesimal of the infinitesimal, so ye screwed yer head right down further and further, the furthermost deepest down point ye ever could, then minus 1, so what ye picked up wasnt sound as we know it, just data beyond audio, just like lines lines lines and no lines, no lines, no lines, a string series like DNA, so low it was unique, nobody nobody nobody — especially Dad. Otherwise “face the music”.

Ye did something wrong and ye faced the music. Music was the punishment! Imagine the punishment! Bad behaviour! Go and listen to music! It was so stupid. That was life.

If life was fair, ha ha.

The opening to the next track made him smile. The repartee; the musicians having a laugh; drummer and lead calling to each other. It was special. Ye wanted to turn it up louder, louder, louder, for them sitting upstairs and what was happening under their nose. A bully bossing people. Dave Arnott’s son-in-law. Uncle John’s pal. He was Dad’s pal too; and nearer Dad’s age than Uncle John’s. That was the bully, Dave Arnott’s son-in-law, his daughter’s husband, he was a total bully. A coward as well as a bully because bullies are cowards. Maybe he bullied her. The kids too; the wee girls and the baby. Imagine he did. And Dave allowed it? How come? Dave was a big guy and could just have battered him. Murdo would have battered him. Dad too. Dad wouldnt have allowed it. If he knew. Murdo could have told him. Although what was there to tell? Murdo was there and the guy was saying things that were horrible. Ye wouldnt say these things to people except if ye could get away with it, like if the person ye were talking to wasnt going to tell ye to shut up, just bloody shut up. That was what Murdo should have told him, Just shut yer fucking mouth. Murdo should have said that and he didnt, he just let him get away with it. Grow up, grow up, you are just one stupid fool. Murdo was just a nothing and he was going to say whatever, just like whatever, anything he wanted because what was Murdo? Nothing. A young guy not worth bothering about. Oh who is he, just like from a foreign country, he’s nothing. A guy talking down to ye like that. Murdo let him. That was the sad thing.

Imagine letting him. Murdo did. Was it bullying? It was bullying. The things he said, he would never have said them to somebody else like if it was somebody to fight back. Murdo didnt fight back. The guy didnt think Murdo would fight back and that was that because Murdo didnt. So he got bullied, the guy bullied him.

How could ye allow it?

Ye hear the sizzles and sissssssss; outer audio points not getting picked up, ever more compressed; mp-3, mp-4, -5, -6, -7 and ever on to where -1 is an algorithm, another system altogether, another universe; forget awesome, awesome is human, awesome is stupid. Way way beyond. Ye dont see so ye dont witness. Although ye still know, ye still know; the stillness. He was not asleep,

a while later,

but hardly awake.

If he was he didnt know it. Not awake and not asleep. Not dreaming. So thinking. Only he didnt know it. Thinking but not thinking. Whatever time, who knows time; something in his head anyway, whatever that was, now gone. Things go. How many tunes in the world disappear forever? How come ye lose them? Ye cant just get them down and like have them there so then ye can just whatever, ye can just play them.

Ye got jittery. Things in yer head. Could ye get them out? Ye couldnt, these people bully ye during the day and are into yer head at night. At school too like as a boy, it was happening to ye and it was all ye thought about, every minute of every day, bloody bully, Murdo would have battered him, just picked something up and crashed him over the head with it. Having a wife like that, wee kids. It was just like amazing how a guy like him, how he got away with it. Dave’s daughter was great. Murdo hadnt been looking at her, if anybody thought that. When somebody looks at you then you look back. She looked at Murdo so Murdo looked back. Although it was not that kind of a look. Imagine it was. She didnt talk much but listened to everything and was beautiful. Guys would say that. She was. Just natural too. What age was she! An actual woman, and she was looking at him, and her blouse, how it came onto her boobs and ye couldnt help see the colour, how they were shaped in the material, pulling tight and her nipples, how she didnt speak and just listened, listened to everything, just looking, and her hand to her mouth, rubbing the sides of her mouth, her lips. It was so so natural. Even her blouse like white and silky. She wasnt dressed up although she seemed to be. Just how she looked, she just looked good — sexy, ye would say that, an actual woman, jeesoh, it was just how everything, like when she was sitting there too ye couldnt help seeing how her boobs were like jeesoh ye saw the shadows into the curve just so natural, everything.

*

Next day clouds were there; white clouds on a blue sky. Back home it was grey on grey on grey. Aunt Maureen said rain was expected later. She was in her room and Dad wherever, Murdo didnt look. He went upstairs with the cowboy book he was reading, heading for the lounge. But when he opened the door there was Dad in the armchair nearest the window, the best place in the house for reading. Dad called: Hi!

Hi Dad. Murdo was about to leave again.

I thought ye were downstairs?

I came up.

Good to see ye reading!

Yeah it’s eh… Murdo held the book up for Dad to see the cover then hesitated by the doorway.

Are ye sitting down? asked Dad.

Okay. Murdo went to the settee.

I heard yer music. I just mean I heard it, I’m not being critical.

Sorry Dad I was keeping it low.

I’m not saying it was loud. Dad marked the page of his book and closed it. And I dont want to keep getting onto ye. It’s just last night there we go again, ye disappeared. The people were going away and you werent there. Aunt Maureen and Uncle John’s friends and neighbours; ye should have been there to say goodnight.

…

They were looking for you.

I didnt know. Otherwise I would have come up. I didnay hear anything.

Yeah well nay wonder with the music.

Dad I was keeping it low.

Yeah ye said.

I was.

Even if ye could change the tune son know what I mean?

It’s two different CDs.

Is that a fact, ye wouldnay know it with that same beat all the time.

Zydeco Dad, it’s a style of music, that’s what it’s called. That’s how ye get it sounding the same.

Dad smiled for a moment. Murdo shrugged and studied the floor. Dad said, I’m only smiling.

Yeah well that’s the music it is. That’s the drive, it’s the accordeon; the accordeon’s driving it I mean it’s just… Murdo glanced at him. Dad it’s good. Once ye know it. It is Dad, it really is.

I believe ye.

There’s actually a wee festival coming. All different bands. It’ll be fun Dad it’s like a week on Saturday in a town called Lafayette. It’s not too far I dont think. That’s how come I’m listening to it so much it’s because I’m learning it. So it’s not just listening.

Right, listening and learning.

I know ye dont get it. Other people do.

Good for them. Dad raised his book and opened it.

Dad I’m not being cheeky.

Glad to hear it. Dad turned a page in his book and read for a few moments, then he lowered the book. What festival is this?

Music Dad, it was Sarah; mind the lassie that came to the bus station with her brother?

Ye’re talking about Allentown, the people ye met in Allentown?

You met them too.

I did, yeah. Dad nodded.

So what’s wrong?

Nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s wrong Murdo.

Well because ye’re not saying anything. Is it because they’re black?

Pardon?

…

Pardon?

Is it because they’re black?

Because who’s black?

Murdo looked at the floor.

What do ye think I’m a racist now? Is that it?

Dad

Eh?

No.

It would be pretty poor if ye did. Dad raised his book again but lowered it immediately. Something’s bothering you. I wish ye would say what it is. Eh?

Murdo gazed at him. We dont really go anyplace. This is the seventh day since we left Scotland.

It’s Thursday. We’ve been here since the early hours of Monday morning.

Yeah but we left Scotland last Friday Dad that’s a week.

Well I’m just glad to be here son I dont know about you. Relaxing and taking it easy. Away from everything. I thought you would have appreciated that, getting off school — you hate school so much this is you getting away from it. I enjoyed last night Murdo, it was a good wee night, meeting people and talking. And it’ll be a good day on Saturday too. Dad shrugged. What I’m saying is that’s fine for me, the way things have been, I’m not that bothered about going anywhere.

Okay Dad but getting out a walk.

Yeah a walk, okay.

So it’s okay if I go a walk?

Of course, if that’s what ye’re wanting to do. I dont object to ye going a walk. Dad nodded. The only thing I will say is tell me where ye’re going.

Dad if it’s only a walk how will I know? I mean like I’ll no be going any place. I wont know until I get there. Unless the shop. Aunt Maureen said there was a local one.

It’s miles away. It’s miles away Murdo.

Is there not a garage? I thought there was a garage, like I mean they’ll have a wee shop for milk and bread and whatever, newspapers and coffee. I could go there.

Dad looked at him.

I’m not saying I want to go there.

I thought ye were.

I wasnay, it’s just like somewhere to go.

People pass through gas stations Murdo. All kinds of people from all everywhere. Ye dont know who ye’re talking to, there’s a lot of crazies about. Guys drive with guns in the glove compartment. Road rage here son they pull a gun on ye. Ye get yer head blown off. You want to hear some of the stories Uncle John tells.

Dad

I’m just saying ye’ve got to be careful.

So I cant go for a walk?

For God sake Murdo dont make it a big deal.

Well it is a big deal.

No it’s not.

It is.

It isnt.

Dad it is.

Jesus Christ!

Well ye always get upset!

No I dont.

Ye do. Then it ends up a row.

Dad was silent for a moment. I just worry. What’s there and who’s there.

Dad it’s only a walk.

Things happen on walks.

What things?

Ye’re not that thick. As ye keep reminding me, ye’re sixteen years old.

Exactly! I could’ve got married months ago Dad I could have been a father by now.

Oh aye who’s the lucky girl!

Dad I’m only saying. It was Mum made the joke. You were there when she said it, I would make ye both grandparents. It was her said it Dad it was Mum, it wasnay me.

Oh jees Murdo.

Murdo stared at the carpet. Neither spoke until eventually Murdo said, She would have liked it here.

Yeah only for a holiday.

But she would have liked it.

Yeah.

I know she wouldnt have wanted the racism. She would have hated that.

Yeah, well… Dad nodded.

Definitely.

Dad shrugged. Racism’s everywhere son.

Yeah but is this not the worst? lynching people and civil rights and stuff; Martin Luther King. Ye even hear about it at school.

Well that’s the old times.

Yeah Dad but the cops battering people and killing them? Murdo gazed at Dad. I was wondering that, like how come Aunt Maureen and Uncle John are living here?

Dad smiled.

I mean like here, in Alabama?

That’s simple son it’s work. Aunt Maureen’s from Kentucky and there wasnt any work. So they moved here. People need to work. That’s how they leave one place to go to another. Uncle John left Glasgow and came here then he met Aunt Maureen.

Yeah but Alabama?

It’s not just Alabama that’s racist son ye’ve got all these other places.

New York!

Yeah New York. Dad sighed. He shifted on the armchair to look directly at Murdo. Murdo held his look. What is it ye’re trying to say son? D’ye think it’s just here ye get racism?

Dad

Is that what ye think?

No.

It’s racist everywhere son. Just like Scotland too. Dont act like ye dont know.

Dad I’m not acting like anything.

This isnay some class at school son this is the real world; this is what ye get in the real world. People are different all over but that’s what ye learn when ye grow up. You’re talking all the time about how mature ye are and then ye come out with stupid stuff like that. So is it Aunt Maureen and Uncle John then because they live here? Is it them that’s racist?

What?

Is that what ye’re wanting me to say?

Never. Never. I’m not saying that at all.

The trouble is son you dont know what ye’re saying. Dad shook his head and turned from Murdo.

Murdo sat still. Dad had his book opened and was studying the page. Murdo waited. Dad continued to study the page. Murdo got up from the settee, lifting his book. He left the room without looking back, clicked shut the door behind himself. He headed along and into the bathroom. He washed his face and hands without looking in the mirror then dried and opened the door gently. Nobody there. He stepped out and downstairs.

He had left his book in the bathroom. It didnt matter. He sat down on the mattress. Then the fast clumping down the stairs. Murdo sat there. The door opened and Dad.

He stood by the side of the bed. He said: Murdo, if you have got something to say, say it.

Murdo looked away. Dad stepped around the end of the bed to face him. Stand up, he said.

Murdo didnt.

Stand up!

Murdo stood up and nearly smiled. He looked at the floor. He folded his arms and unfolded them. Dad said, Tell me what it is?

What what is? I dont know what ye mean.

Dad stared at him

Honest Dad I dont know what ye mean. Murdo put his hands in his pockets then took them back out.

Dad said, I only asked ye to say where ye were going. That’s all. And it’s because I worry, I worry.

Yeah I know Dad but really ye shouldnt because I cant go anywhere anyway so what does it matter it doesnt matter. Really, it doesnt matter.

What are ye talking about?

Murdo folded his arms.

What are ye talking about?

I’ve got no money. Murdo rubbed round the sides of his mouth. What I’m saying: I dont have any money.

What d’ye mean?

Murdo shrugged.

I give you money.

Yeah but not for myself. Murdo shrugged again. Like only if I need it for something. I dont have any money of my own. Know what I mean Dad I dont have any money.

I give ye money.

Murdo unfolded his arms and turned his head to look away. Dad, what I’m saying, ye never give me any pocket money; like ye never ever give me any pocket money. What about pocket money? Ye never give me any pocket money! Murdo shook his head:

Pocket money Dad ye just never ever… Pocket money, it is fucking pocket money Dad… Murdo was clenching his fists. Ye never…ye just…ye never ever give me any damn bloody pocket money and I dont know what to do I dont know what to do I’m just I’m stuck. I cannay go out even a walk Dad; I cannay go out; I dont have even one dollar, one dollar; I cant even buy a packet of chewing gum Dad nothing, I cant buy any damn thing and I cant do any damn thing… Dad… Dad I cant do anything.

Murdo was shaking now and tried to stop it, pushing down his hands by his sides, clenching and unclenching his fists; taking a deep breath.

Dad turned away.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry Dad. Dad it doesnt matter.

It was Mum dealt with pocket money.

Yeah.

I mean…

Yeah Dad sorry.

Ye need to remind me, if ye just could remind me.

Okay Dad.

I dont want us to fight. Whatever happens son I dont want us to fight. I mean me and you. Dad reached out his hand and clasped Murdo’s shoulder. Murdo had his head lowered.

Dad went away soon after. Murdo laid down on the mattress, eventually switching on the music, just quietly, a beautiful number that was so so easy, going along someplace, the damp leaves, branch roots, smelling the woods, the loch water.

*

That evening Uncle John drove with Dad to the local bar which was about three miles away. They werent so strict as back home on drink-driving where Dad wouldnt have taken even one bottle of beer. Here Uncle John drank three or four which according to him was “nothing”.

Murdo was glad when they went. It was good for Dad getting out and good for Uncle John too because whenever did he get the chance? Never. Dad being here was special for him. Once they had gone he sat with Aunt Maureen in the lounge watching television. She picked out a magazine from a magazine rack at the side of the television. Murdo knelt down to check through it, and found a book called the USA Road Atlas. It was full of maps. An actual book full of maps. Every page was a map, and followed on from the page before, or ran into the page coming after, just like online if ye were scrawling or zooming in someplace. It was just a brilliant old book. Murdo flourished it aloft. Aunt Maureen glanced at it. Huh? she said. Oh you want to go someplace Murdo?

Murdo grinned, sat back on the settee with it and began from page one. It gave a clear idea not only of the roads but the land itself; mountain ranges, rivers and lochs. The book had generalised maps and the downtown centres of the major cities. It was brilliant. Just scanning map pages and seeing the names of actual towns. Their very names! Murdo had to read them out to Aunt Maureen. Honest, he said, it is just amazing. Look! Gretna! Imagine Gretna! Elgin! Jeesoh, Elgin. McKenney! Cadder! Aberdeen! Aberdeen, actual Aberdeen. It’s all Scottish names Aunt Maureen. Glasgow!

Glasgow sure!

Highlands! Jeesoh. Highlands?

Huh?

A town called Highlands. An actual town!

What is so wrong with that?

The Highlands is a whole place, not just one town.

Maybe it’s a different Highlands.

Well yeah of course but one town!

Reminded the old people of home I guess.

Well yeah but — Phil Campbell! What is that is that a town? Phil Campbell? An actual town?

Sure it’s a town.

But it’s a guy’s name! Phil Campbell!

Aunt Maureen shrugged. They all go there. All the Phil Campbells. One year a bunch of them came from the west coast of Canada.

Jeesoh!

You want the tourists to visit get a fancy name!

Do they come from Scotland too?

Well now I cant say there son.

There would be hundreds of them if they did. Imagine it! all the Phil Campbells! Murdo returned to the map and saw Millport. Millport! A Millport on the map. Millport. Aunt Maureen, that’s right beside where we live, Millport, it’s an island along from us; Millport’s the name of the town!

Huh!

We used to go there. My pal’s uncle’s got a boat and Millport is a place we sailed. There’s a great pier for jumping in the water. We used to do it.

You did?

It was great, just great. There was a chip shop there as well and if ye were hungry, ye always were, if ye were swimming, so it was great, ye went in there after, whatever, fish and chips. It was just smashing.

Sure sounds good.

All the different names. It’s great!

Aunt Maureen chuckled. That’s the old people, she said.

Rome: look! Rome!

Rome Georgia, sure: Rome Georgia, Athens Texas, Paris Tennessee. That’s the jet set Murdo. You know that one? Aunt Maureen sang:

Oh we’re not the jet set

We’re the old Chevrolet set.

You dont know the song? Rome Georgia, Athens Texas. Aunt Maureen chuckled. It’s fun. You got to listen to it. They got an Athens in Alabama too. You look and you will find it there.

Murdo didnt answer. He was seeing the very town itself: LaFayette. He studied it. LaFayette. There’s LaFayette. Aunt Maureen, he said, I’m just seeing it here.

Sure. Aint far from Chattanooga.

So it is close.

Yeah it’s close. You got cousins in Chattanooga; Gillespies — unless they all went west. Used to get on a train there took you down through Huntsville. Did that train go over to St Louis now? I think it did. Chattanooga’s Indian; they got a song.

Pardon me boy

Is that the Chattanooga choo choo?

Aunt Maureen stopped. Something going down the line, track twenty-nine… She frowned. The Dixie Line son you ever hear of that? Back then it was famous. It’s gone now more’s the pity. People dont know. You ask them and they dont know, my Lord, in the old days, they had to drive them coaches onto boats, had to stop the train. That’s how they crossed the Tennessee River. Now it’s for tourists. Aint got one for ourselves. Son it is beautiful up there. They got the Lost Sea Cave. You ever hear of that?

No.

You didnt hear of it?

The Lost Sea Cave. Never.

Huh. Son they got a whole underground sea over there, up by Sweetwater.

An actual sea under the ground?

They got boats go on it. If you like boats.

Boats!

Sure. We could go there week after next. We aint fixed any plans yet. Got the long weekend huh, so we’re going somewheres that’s for sure. Aunt Maureen glanced at the clock on the wall, made to rise from the armchair. I’m going to make a hot chocolate son what about you you want one?

Can I make it for you? asked Murdo.

No you cannot.

Murdo rose from the settee and walked with her to the kitchen. Things tied in. Amazing how it happened. When Sarah said about the gig she made it seem like it was easy to get there. How easy? Now he knew. She said him and Dad could stay overnight with friends but if it was as close as this maybe they wouldnt need to, they could just get a bus home. Maybe they had their own friends, their own family relations. But that wouldnt matter if they drove home after. Or like a bus. There had to be a bus. Ye think a bus goes to LaFayette? he said.

Aunt Maureen chuckled. You like buses huh!

Well I just mean like…

You got a notion for it. It’s mountain country; good country. They got resorts. You go skiing back home?

No.

Calum does. He goes skiing Murdo. You dont think of snow in California huh, but they got snow alright, they got mountains. Him and his wife now they got a good size of a house son they’d put you up any time; you and your Dad want to visit there. Any time. Got two children of their own, younger than you. That’s your first cousins Murdo. My Lord, they would love to see you there.

Is John there too?

John? Huh. Aunt Maureen smiled. You ask the questions.

I was just wondering.

Sure. Well no, he aint there. John’s in Springfield, Missouri, that’s where John is — little John as I call him. Him and your uncle now one’s hammer and one’s tongs.

Murdo smiled.

Yeah, only it aint so funny. Aunt Maureen lifted her mug of hot chocolate and held it to her cheek. She turned to Murdo and touched his hand. She had switched on the Weather Channel. Now she switched it off. I’m going in my room a bit, she said.

Aunt Maureen would you mind if I took the Road book downstairs with me?

My Lord Murdo I do not want you saying that kind of thing! Makes like you are not family and yes you are family. This is your home and you do what you want. Aunt Maureen brandished her fist at him.

Sorry Aunt Maureen.

She nodded.

*

Murdo’s concentration was on the book of Road Maps. Maybe ye didnt have to go through Chattanooga at all for driving, if ye could pass through the wee towns. Except if it was the bus and folk were getting off. That was his recollection of buses coming from Memphis.

Noises from outside, tyre noises on the gravel. Uncle John’s 4x4; him and Dad back from the pub. He got up off the bed, shoved a chair under the high-up window and stepped up to see, but would have needed a step ladder to see properly.

The bathroom door closed. Murdo undressed swiftly, switched off the light and got into bed, expecting footsteps down the stairs and Dad chapping the door to see he was okay. Why would he not be? Vampires attacking, creatures from the depth coming to drag him down.

He thought to put the light on after but his head was gone because of the gig and the idea of that, if it was even possible. Surely it was? Even just “possible”.

If he couldnt he couldnt. He said he would so really he had to. Otherwise he would let people down.

Amazing how black it was with the light out. Ye couldnt see a thing! Better with yer eyes shut. If ye were in the dark too long with yer eyes open ye got that weird feeling like things closing in; the land coming together and shutting ye in. An earthquake and the ground cracks, you fall in, aaahhhh, trying to cling on, the dirt crumbling. Scary.

He switched the music on, playing it quiet. Playing it quiet was listening to it quiet, and made it different. But full-sounding.

The truth is Dad knew nothing about music. So nothing about Murdo. He heard him play in his room, and knew he was in a band, or had been before Mum was ill.

No point talking.

Maybe Aunt Maureen would come with him! She could drive, she could hire a car.

He shifted on the bed. Moonlight through the wee window; it angled, making the ceiling itself a kind of map made out of papier-mâché, all the bumps, lines and cracks. Imagine a marker pen and tracing it out, following the lines, circling the bumps for mountains and lost valleys, lochs and rivers. Contours. Ye could trace them with yer tongue on the roof of yer mouth, the way sometimes Murdo drew things, sitting on a bus and an old man’s head from the seat in front. Then Mum, he didnt want to draw Mum, how she was sleeping, that way she was, the changes; these changes in her face.

Poor Mum.

Murdo thought things that were totally private. Nobody ever got to know. Not even himself in a weird way. It all mixed in without working it out. Then later something came out. Maybe while he was sleeping. Not dreams, just whatever. Thoughts working their way through. Sometimes he got angry and shouldnt have.

It was just life. Dad met Mum; if he hadnt Murdo and Eilidh wouldnt have been there. Different parents different children.

*

Early next morning Murdo heard the gravel crunch beneath the wheels of the 4x4, then it had gone. Uncle John was on his way to work. Murdo lifted his jacket and walked upstairs, collecting his boots from the rug at the front door, treading past Dad’s bedroom and through into the dining area. He tried to unlock the dining room exit to the patio but it wasnt locked. He opened it and stepped outside. Aunt Maureen was there in the garden. Hey Murdo!

Aunt Maureen! I’m just going a walk.

You’re early?

So are you!

Huh…? Oh, Mister Impatient!

“Mister Impatient” was one of her names for Uncle John. Most every morning Aunt Maureen was up along with Uncle John and sat with him before he went to work. Murdo hadnt thought of that.

He intended walking in a square. The streets roundabout were wide and straight, up and down and side by side, so it was easy walking. The houses neat with trimmed grass lawns, no front hedges. The lawns stretched to the kerb at the edge of the pavement, if ye could call it a pavement; the grass came right down to the kerb. It was like walking on somebody’s grass. Uncle John said about a boy getting shot dead for crossing somebody’s garden. That was hard to avoid. If ye didnt walk on their grass ye would have had to walk on the street.

Surely that was wrong? If there was no actual pavement. Beneath the kerb was a curved drop and a stank to fend off a torrent of water, for when they had floods. Flash floods. They spoke about them on the Weather Channel.

While he was walking a pick-up truck backed out of a driveway. A big man in a check shirt was at the wheel. Murdo had to stop in his tracks to let the guy out. The guy looked at him as if it was Murdo’s fault. On the main road only a few cars passed. A woman walking a dog. Another woman walking a dog. No sign of a bus-stop. If there was a local bus it maybe would go into the city centre. From there there would be buses to everywhere.

It was so peaceful! Then a sudden feeling that he liked it here. Nobody knew ye. They didnt know ye were alive. They hardly even saw ye. It was like a new life! He was on his own and going about. Whatever it was, whatever he did, it was him. That was the feeling. This was the outside world.

Although in a weird way it wasnt. Because he was here. It was an outside world but he was in it. The inside world was in his head. Nobody went in there but him. Murdo grinned: a song in his head, a great one by Beau Jocque.

Ah forty down, a forty down,

a forty down down down down down

dig it down

It was true but Alabama and here he was. It was him and nobody else. Only Beau Jocque, and his brilliant band, swinging along.

Murdo chuckled. So if he was here so was Sarah because it was her gave him the compilation.

He just felt good. So good. Life was good. It was his life.

The idea of that: whatever, just whatever! Where was the accordeon, he needed the accordeon!

True but, ha ha. Back home he would have played! He needed to play, he was wanting to play, he was going to play, and with Queen Monzee-ay. And would tell Dad. He needed to tell him.

He strode on now, power-walking round the block and there was Aunt Maureen’s house in whatever — half an hour?

He walked along the driveway to enter the back door. Aunt Maureen had gone. For breakfast he lifted two bananas, poured a glass of milk, returned downstairs, opened the Road Atlas. Chattanooga wasnt far, if ye had to go through it by bus then it was a case of taking a right into the state of Georgia, over the mountains.

He needed money. Not a lot. He didnt like asking Dad for anything, but that was that and he would have to.

Two accordeons made it special. They got that deep-sounding full thing that can be the best. Ye clenched yer fist thinking about it, and ye could feel it in the big muscle at the top of yer arm. Ye got that tension, a quivering feel to it. Dreams are dreams but this could happen. It was up to Murdo. Queen Monzee-ay knew he could do it. Of course he could. Ye just did it. Ye went ahead and ye did it.

Ye got the lead in and it was fine. By the weekend after next Murdo would have the set in his head. Then with the box. As soon as he got the box. He needed to get the fingers moving. Some proper playing. It would come. But the sooner he had a box the better. That pawnshop in Allentown. Maybe there was one in Chattanooga, or in Huntsville. Buying one out a pawnshop was okay. If it played it played. Ye tried it first. Ye would never buy one without playing it. Especially an accordeon, it would be bloody useless, like it had to be ready so if the reeds needed cleaning, there was no time for anything. A special glue, beeswax. The wax of a bee.

That was life. Everything for something.

There was nothing to worry about. Queen Monzee-ay knew. As soon as she heard him play. Even before! She said she knew when she saw him standing beside the tree! That is the truth! She said that. Just the way he was watching. But that was true. Watching means taking it all in. Ye see the person and then ye watch him. Oh there he is! Ye see the whole person. So watching means seeing all the bits and pieces; how he stands, how he moves, how he listens, how he looks. Queen Monzee-ay saw all that.

She was lead so he was playing to her. Relax, settle down. Then if she asked him for one. Probably she would. In Allentown for the first time he played “Blue Skirt Waltz”. How come? Just because turquoise, that was the accordeon. Then for a girl, a blue skirt dancing. Put on yer blue skirt and dance. Girls dance in that certain way. When ye see a girl’s legs, a girl is dancing and there are her legs. Murdo liked to see them. That is that, just the legs dancing, there is the girl, her legs, look! Jees! Beautiful legs didnt go on and on until one peak, if they were beautiful then that was the peak, that was like music where one thing was this and another thing was that but how could a polka be better than a waltz! it was just the most idiotic thing could be said. A girl’s legs were beautiful but hers were more and hers over there were more and more; that was like beautiful legs + 1, beautiful legs + 2; just stupid nonsense, so three legs were better than two. Daft stuff.

*

Aunt Maureen had come from the house carrying a tray and called to Murdo who was sunbathing at the rear of the garden, lying on his front on the beach towel and reading the Road Atlas book. He had left the hi-fi in the room. There was a cable and lead that would have stretched back into the house, although Dad was there. Anyway, the book, it was just amazing like how ye could trace all where the roads went and the land between and even the distances, it told ye some and ye could work out others, and follow roads all the way up or else across. If ye stayed on the Interstate 75 ye landed way up in Detroit or else the other way it was down the very southernmost tip of America in a place called Mangrove Swamp. What a road! That was interstates. Roads going inbetween all the states. That one was like all the way north to all the way south.

And interesting roundabout LaFayette and Chattanooga up to Sweetwater where the underground sea was. Mountains and stuff, national parks. They were talking about the weekend after this one coming, when Uncle John had the Friday off. Murdo was thinking if he did go with people on the Friday and they went up someplace and stayed overnight or whatever, maybe he could still make the gig on Saturday evening because like it was the same motorway road and there had to be a bus, surely. Or else hitching a lift. People hitched lifts. Ye were just careful. Stay overnight with Sarah’s family then Sunday morning Cheerio and that was him back to wherever, Sweetwater, or Cumberland Gap where Uncle John’s old uncle somebody used to live years, years and years ago, and Uncle John’s old uncle somebody was Murdo’s old uncle uncle somebody plenty times removed.

Murdo closed the Atlas book and got up from the big towel. Aunt Maureen had settled the tray on the patio table and chatted with Dad for a while. She returned into the house and Dad was back reading. He didnt look up when Murdo arrived. So Dad hi and all that I want to play a gig and it’s at LaFayette in the state of Georgia. Gulp! Pardon? What did ye say! You heard! Ha ha. Better saving yer breath. If it was later wait till later and dont do it sooner.

Dad was engrossed in his book. Murdo would have to talk first. Ye have to in this life. This is this and you are you. Although Dad knew he was there. Murdo had lifted the glass of orange juice. Dad, he said, I was just thinking there about the music. Just eh…

Dad nodded.

Like the way it is for me, how I do it, if I dont have an accordeon or guitar or like whatever.

Dad half closed the book.

I’m not talking about other people. Just myself Dad. What I do I listen. I listen and just kind of — I dont know if it’s taking it in. Only it’s something I do Dad I mean if I’m bursting to play and I cannay I mean that happens too, I’m bursting to play and I cannay. So I’ve got the music to hear. Just hearing it the way I’m hearing it, it’s like learning, although I’m just listening like I hear it and I learn it. It’s just the way I do it Dad so I mean that’s just how it is.

Dad smiled.

No just because like with the music Dad I just seem able to take it in. Maybe other people dont. Like even in school, my head is like just going through everything I mean everything Dad just whatever like thinking about stuff if maybe there’s a tune I’m working on. You go to work and I’m up there in my room. Before I go to school: that’s what I do and sometimes I just forget where I am Dad just like doodling about on the guitar or else like I jam in Dad ye know like I’ve got some old music I stick on Dad ye know what I do like how I jam in, and I just forget everything. I forget everything.

Murdo stopped talking and was looking at the patio floor, a wooden floor; spars; the earth down below. Echo echo echo, thud thud thud, solid earth: thud, pwohhhh, thud

Dad was listening to what Murdo was saying.

What was he saying? It was all daft. Even the name: Chattanooga. Dad wouldnt let him play the gig. This is what Murdo knew. He wanted to laugh but only in a stupid way. Because he was an idiot. Sixteen years of age. It was all just insanity. School. Who cares. The teacher said about Mozart when he was seventeen, Court Musician, what does that mean? Murdo just wished something, he didnt know what. Disappearing. Things dont change. Not in this life. If they do then what? Nothing. Himself standing there, the swimming shorts, sun tans, he just went red.

Dad said, That festival son. Ye were saying about it?

Yeah, it’s near Chattanooga.

Right.

But the festival’s LaFayette in the state of Georgia; it’s over the border in the mountains, ye see it on the map, it looks great, just a wee town. Aunt Maureen knows it. They’ve got a museum. I think we’ve got relations there unless they moved out to the west coast, like California.

Dad smiled.

So did Murdo. No he didnt. It was just ha ha. Except his stomach didnt feel good.

The bird that fluttered, the bird that looked at him. Imagine a bird looking right at ye? Did birds do that? That was like a Cherokee Indian bird. It was there and just looking, what ye doing here, this is my place.

The biscuits on the plate. The glass of orange juice. The glass was cold. He lifted it and held it in his right hand; wet, the condensation. It was cooler in the patio with the overhead kind of wooden spars thing that was like a roof, so ye didnt get sunburnt.

Ye sitting down?

Yeah. Murdo sat down at the side of the table.

Dad smiled, looking towards the house. Aunt Maureen had appeared. She stopped at the table. She scratched her head, puzzled about something. She was looking at Murdo. Murdo smiled. Hi Aunt Maureen.

Huh, she said, now what did I come out here for? She peered at Dad. My memory son what’s happening!

Dad said, I’m as bad.

You are huh!

Murdo glanced at Dad.

Aunt Maureen smiled at the biscuits and stuff on the table, was about to head back into the house. Now Murdo, she said, and wagged her finger the way a schoolteacher does giving ye a row. Are you alright? she said, That is what I am asking.

I’m fine.

Is he Tom?

Yeah. Dad smiled.

Mm. Aunt Maureen frowned. You too now what about you?

I’m fine, said Dad.

Everybody’s all fine in Scotland huh?

Murdo grinned.

You doing the ironing? asked Dad.

It’s been piling up on me.

Can I give ye a help? Murdo asked.

No, she said, you cannot; you cannot give me any help one little bit! She took his hand: Not on vacation. You’re on vacation son. You watch that sun now, she said, you are warm.

He knows, said Dad.

I only do it for twenty minutes.

Half an hour ago, said Dad.

Well it wasnt half an hour, said Murdo, then he smiled at Aunt Maureen who was looking from him to Dad and back again.

Give me a hug, she said to Murdo. He got up from the chair and moved to her. She held him close to her and sighed. Murdo son, she said and hugged him again. It was a real cuddle. This is the kind Aunt Maureen gave.

Queen Monzee-ay wouldnt have been as good at it. Neither would Aunt Edna. But was that true? Maybe it wasnt. If it was their own family of course they would be good. If it isnt yer own family it is just a different cuddle. Aunt Edna would have been good at it, just depending. Cuddles can be weird. A wee cuddle from one was a big one from somebody else. Dad hardly gave any. Uncle John’s were all slap slap slap slap. Some guys thumped ye hard. Dad cuddled Murdo at the funeral, and other times too. All the cuddles of the day at the funeral. There couldnay be any more cuddles. But then how Dad shook yer hand, sometimes that was like a cuddle.

Aunt Maureen was saying something about the weather. Dad said something back to her and ye could see about him, how with Aunt Maureen, Dad was the same as Murdo. Dad thought about Aunt Maureen in the exact same way. She was just the very best, really. What else? Nothing.

It was strange. Murdo didnt care about stuff. There were things in life people cared about. He didnt. Ha ha is what he felt.

No point talking. Even how Dad was there with his book and Aunt Maureen just like how she was doing everything.

She was a real aunt. More than any blood. What was blood? Blood was nothing. There couldnt be a better aunt. She was talking to Murdo now. Protecting the dog, she said, he went out to find it, took shelter in the car.

God… Dad shook his head. You hear that Murdo?

What was it again?

Boy just found there with his dog, said Aunt Maureen. He was protecting it; went in a car for shelter and the car got flattened. Tree fell right on top of it, snapped apart. Oklahoma.

Jees, said Murdo.

Aunt Maureen looked from Murdo to Dad. Protecting the dog. My Lord his poor mother, no rhyme nor reason there huh!

Murdo said, That’s the thing in America, people die from the actual weather.

Sure they do.

The actual weather.

Not in Scotland huh?

No. Except maybe like climbing accidents on mountains, snow avalanches, or else like drowning maybe if ye were out on a boat but not actual weather like I mean where people die. No. Not like floods and twisters and whatever.

You didnt know that huh?

No, said Murdo, I dont think people do know that back home.

Dad said, Maybe some do.

Aunt Maureen lifted the plate of biscuits. You didnt eat any, she said.

I did take one, said Dad.

I was going to, said Murdo.

You got your orange juice son huh?

Yeah. It’s like real oranges, better than we get back home.

Aunt Maureen suddenly wagged her finger at Murdo. Oh now, she said, I know what it was. I got the question for you Murdo, church on Sunday. You go to church back home?

Dad was looking.

You want to come one time with us? Uncle John and me? We’re going Sunday morning. You think you might come? Would be nice if you did.

Murdo smiled and nodded.

Well you think about it, she said.

Okay Aunt Maureen.

*

It was all mixed up. Aunt Maureen was great. She was just great. It was Murdo who wasnt. He was a horror, the things he thought about, horrible thoughts, horrible horrible, just the most horrible.

His voice too, he didnt want to hear it again, ever. If Aunt Maureen was going to church on Sunday then maybe, maybe he should even just think about it, just think about it. He didnt care about any of it except just her, Aunt Maureen, it was her, it was just to go with her. Murdo didnt care about meeting other people, nice ones or not. If Aunt Maureen was meaning guys his own age or else girls, ones who went to church.

It was daft. Murdo would meet people and he wanted to meet people, and if he went places he would. He would meet people. So if that was church like a place to go then okay. So maybe that would be something. If Dad didnt go. Maybe Murdo would, if Dad didnt.

But why? if he didnt believe. Dad believed, Murdo didnt. Murdo had his life too, his own space. The basement. Dad had his room. This was Murdo’s. So what was wrong with being in it? Jeesoh, if it was his? How come it was like a big deal to spend time in it? If Murdo hadnt had the basement this whole holiday would have been a punishment. Anyway, it was not a holiday. Who would have called it a holiday, nobody. Coming here was recovering from a bereavement. Ye were bereaved and had to cope. Mum dying was a bereavement. Murdo had to cope and Dad had to cope. It was not a punishment. People look at ye and think it to themselves: Oh the poor boy lost his mother, what did he do to deserve that?

Nothing. Nothing to deserve it and nothing not to deserve it. She just died. That was Mum, tumours that live on and kill females. Males have theirs. Things are how they are. Never mind God and Jesus. Aunt Maureen was the best but that was her. She had hers and Murdo had his.

Her and Dad would be talking. The boy’s just lost his mother. Oh well I’ve lost my wife. Yes but your mother? Not as bad as your wife. Losing your wife is worse than losing your mother. No it isnt. Yes it is. He’s having to cope. So is everybody. Murdo is a young man. A young man is not a boy: a young man is a man. So if he is a young man then he can go where he wants and just act like whatever.

So what if nice people go to church? Who wants nice people! Ones who praise the Lord and are so welcoming to everybody? What is nice people? Do bad things not happen to them? If bad things happen are they so nice?

The idea of innocent people. They hardly live then they are dead. Ye wonder about that. If God makes people dead is that Him punishing people? If it is yer nearest and dearest is that God punishing you? Who else could it be? With Mum it was like ye must have done something very very bad. Ye think it to yourself because how else? If ye sinned it must have been badly, very very badly. Yer sister then yer mother. The very worst of all. So if things happen for a reason what is the reason?

People talked about sinners, “we are all sinners”, but it wasnt true. Maybe Dad believed it. A believer believed. Was Eilidh a sinner? Murdo was sick of that stuff. We endure hard knocks and it is for a reason. God knows the reason. We dont know but God does. Maybe Jesus does. The blood of the lamb being redeemed. The lamb was Jesus. Through the blood of Jesus who is our blessed saviour, our living redeemer, by the shedding of his blood our sins are washed away. Blood-stained roads and blind men walking. Josie. Josie was Josie. Aunt Maureen’s friend. They were believers. That old guy in the bus station, a walking skeleton. Cracked.

Imagine a baby. A sinner! So crazy, so so crazy. That guy Conor must have thought so and it was his baby. So that would be his sins. The sins of the father is like punishment for the children; two wee girls and a baby. A baby only had to be born. As soon as it was born it was like doomed. That was how it worked. Maybe Dad thought the same. Mum was dead because Dad was a sinner. That was Hell if it was his fault; so Hell was now and not after ye were dead. On the road not seeing the signs. A blind man walking. That was Murdo, not seeing the signs. He thought she was getting better. That was the worst stupidity. She was not getting better and was not going to get better. Murdo didnt know that. Nobody told him. Naive childishness. He needed his father to tell him. How stupid. He knew she was badly ill but actual dying. The very end and she couldnt get out of bed. Imagine. Ye imagine it, how do ye imagine it, just a smile, not the breath to say Murdo, holding onto his fingers.

*

Late Friday evening after dinner they were sitting on talking. Uncle John folded his arms and stared into Murdo’s eyes for about five seconds. Murdo smiled then stopped. It was a staring contest. They kept it going for several more seconds. Murdo stopped first although he didnt have to. Uncle John relaxed. You ever think of staying here? he said.

Oh now, said Aunt Maureen.

Murdo glanced at Dad.

Uncle John raised his hand at once. Never mind him son I’m asking you. Do you think you would ever ever consider it?

Both Dad and Aunt Maureen awaited his answer.

No, he said. I only mean I wouldnt consider it, because I dont know. It’s not a thing I mean it wouldnt be me making the decision.

Aye but son if it was you?

Dad had risen from the table; he took his empty teacup through to rinse at the kitchen sink.

Murdo said, Yeah but Uncle John it wouldnt be me making the decision.

What is this boy a politician! called Uncle John. Then he reached and trapped Murdo’s wrist on the table. Ye’re no getting away with it. Out with it! I’ve heard yer Dad, now it’s you. If it was your decision what would it be? Would ye stay or go? Eh, stay here or go home?

Murdo smiled, then chuckled.

Uncle John laughed and pointed at him, turned to Aunt Maureen. Murdo looked from Dad to Aunt Maureen and back to Uncle John. It was true. It was just true and he was saying it out loud.

Uncle John called to Dad: Did ye hear that?

I did, said Dad, returning to the table.

Aunt Maureen was smiling, and Uncle John said to her: Mind you old Jimmy Shand was good! Uncle John winked at Murdo. So how much is an accordeon? he said. They expensive?

Aye, said Dad, the kind Murdo likes.

Well if they’re good quality. Murdo shrugged.

Italian, said Dad.

What is that a joke?

Murdo said, They make the best accordeons.

You’re kidding me on son! The old Eyeties. Did you know that? he asked Aunt Maureen.

Well mister their music is beautiful. You forgetting that?

No I’m not forgetting that. I’m just saying, it’s not something ye would think. Music aye, okay. Not musical instruments. You liked the big guy mother.

Well who didnt huh! Pavarotti.

Aw great opera, said Dad, I can listen to opera. Dad smiled. Any day of the week!

Murdo said, Mum liked opera. It was Mum liked opera. Opera is what she liked. It was her. Murdo looked again at Dad. It was her liked it Dad.

Of course. Dad smiled.

Murdo looked away. Opera was Mum, always Mum. Murdo couldnt believe Dad would say stuff like that. Great opera. Did he actually say that? What about ordinary opera?

He stared at the table. Dad was looking at him but he couldnt return it, couldnt, couldnt look at him. He glimpsed Aunt Maureen smiling to him and tried to smile back but couldnt. It was too bad. Dad was saying something, whatever Dad was saying, whatever, something.

But that was Murdo, he had to leave the table. Because otherwise — he just had to leave.

It wouldnt have been crying. He didnt cry. Even if it started he was able to make it stop. Not blinking. If ye blinked then it ran down yer face. It was getting yerself cold. Ye had to just be there and not do anything except make it not happen and that was how ye made it not happen, by not doing anything, nothing. That was how Murdo managed it, getting yer head out and just like not being there in the company: although ye were; ye went side on to it, making yer mind wander, if ye could think of something, just yer mind, going places. In school he did it. Or wherever, on a bus or the ferry — him and Dad going home on the ferry from leaving Mum in the hospice damn bloody hospice, every damn bloody night Dad in the ferry lounge and Murdo outside unless it was gale force and the rain too too heavy, the spray battering yer face, spattering it. Murdo needed that. Ye think of the song because he would have swam over, and the seas were wild, he didnt care about the seas, he would swim over and over and over, but that was it now, Mum, she would be with Eilidh.

He heard Dad doing something, maybe just moving on his chair. And Aunt Maureen saying, You boys have had the worst time.

Murdo gazed at her. Aunt Maureen.

Ye thought about it and it was true. Him and Dad. They had had it the worst. It couldnt get worse because it was the worst already, it was the worst there had ever been and they were in the middle of it. What ever could be worse. And Dad too, Dad too. Murdo said, Dad…

Dad smiled.

Murdo got up from the chair and went down the basement. He didnt switch on the light and didnt put on the music. He wanted to hide. People couldnt hide.

He kept off the light.

This was the densest. Here ye were blind.

A quiet kind of swish, swish. Flying cockroaches? But Uncle John said they buzzed. How serious was he? Murdo wasnt sure he had ever seen one, unless it was the big black ones with the thick body. Ye think of things slithering. Burying into the earth.

It was just life, ye think of life, how everything changes. This long long period of stuff that isnt good, where nothing is good and ye always get taken back into it, can never get out it, reaching out and ye cannot get what it is; expecting it to leave but it never does; ye wake up and it is there again, ye get the moment where things are good and even ye forget; ye forget it all and expect the normal stuff but it doesnt happen and ye are back inside it; Mum is not at the door telling ye to get up or ye’ll be late for school; that is not going to happen, never, and it is just you, a wee speck spinning.

Life was different to what ye thought. Dad would just be whatever, worried, he worried. He was just coping same as Murdo. The two of them.

More time passed. Murdo could not stay downstairs. He went upstairs to the bathroom.

Dad was alone in the kitchen. He had started on the clearing up, and was glad to see Murdo. He didnt say anything but Murdo knew he was. Murdo said: I was doing the clearing up Dad. I told Aunt Maureen I would and eh I mean it’s not really you to do it.

Okay.

Murdo moved past him to the draining board to make a start. Dad had already stacked the dinner plates in the sink and filled it with hot water. I’m not using the dishwasher, he said.

Me too.

Ye have to wash stuff twice if ye do.

I know, said Murdo.

Okay. Okay… Dad left the kitchen, maybe going to his room or else to get ready. Maybe him and Uncle John were going to the pub. Murdo would be glad. Being in a pub would be interesting.

Better being outside seeing stuff, just looking, walking about.

Murdo had his hands in the soapy water. There was a wee back window directly above the sink. A tree blocked most of the view but it was still great seeing out. He didnt mind cockroaches anyway if that was the swishing sound. Insects were everywhere. Spiders’ webs and all sorts. Who cares. Murdo didnt. Never ever. People thought thick woods and dark forests were scary. They didnt like going into them. Murdo did. Murdo went into them. Even as a boy, ye might say forcing himself, he forced himself. That was Eilidh, after she died. Murdo did funny wee things. He went into the woods and sat next to bushes and trees; creepy crawlies down in the dirt, damp earth, muddiness. The sun never reaches these places. No grass but roots and remains.

Dad’s bedroom door was shut. Murdo chapped it. Dad opened it. Murdo said, Dad, I’m sorry.

Och away. Dont worry.

Dad

No. Ye’re right; what do I know? Opera. I dont know a damn thing.

Dad it’s my fault.

No it’s not.

It is.

No it’s not. Dont worry. Dad came out from the bedroom and closed over the door. They returned to the dining room. Murdo entered behind Dad and Uncle John and Aunt Maureen were peering across at them.