The Burn

Unlucky

It was early evening when Lecky came along the road, already dark; the chip van was parked across by the chapel, puffs of blue smoke drifting up from its funnel. He joined the queue. The van was a converted single-decker bus; as somebody made an exit the others waiting moved up one by one onto the old platform. He bought two single cigarettes and tapped a match from a boy he knew standing behind him in the queue. When he struck the match along the metal floor the young woman working the friers frowned at him, so did a couple of the other customers. Outside on the pavement he exhaled a mouthful of smoke then took another long drag, keeping the smoke in his lungs, letting it out through his nostrils. His belly didnt feel good but being out in the breeze and away from the fumes in the van made him feel better. He smoked about a third of the fag before nipping it, and continued along and up the steep hill. When he passed the gable end of a building some drops of water landed on his face. If it was actually going to rain, that would be good; he felt like it raining because of the freshness. There was plenty of cloud about — the moon hidden and a redness making it a bit supernatural till you realised what it was, a reflection, the lights of the city.

It took twenty minutes to reach John’s close. He walked up the stairs to the top storey, flapped the letter-box on John’s door. There came an immediate thumping from inside and the door came swinging open, a wee lassie hanging onto its handle with both hands, one sock on and one sock off, her toes wedged into the crevice at the top of the bottom panel. She continued to hang there, the door creaking on its hinges. She shouted: Daddy.

Behind her a boy stood staring, he held something clutched to his mouth, a toy or something. Then John was there: Give us a minute, he said, showing Lecky into the kitchen.

I thought I was going to be late.

Nah you’re okay.

John’s wife was sitting on one side of the settee holding a teacup against her cheek. A baby lay beside her not wearing anything except a big cotton nappy, a dummy tit in its mouth. But it was awake and its eyes were taking note of what was happening. Lecky shifted his stance a little so that he was facing the television.

Minutes passed. John’s wife reached up to the mantelpiece and extracted a cigarette from the packet there. A comedy show was on and something happened which got her smiling. She said to Lecky, Do you ever watch this?

Aye, sometimes.

It can be quite funny.

He nodded. He put his hands into his jerkin pockets. The door opened while she was replacing the box of matches onto the mantelpiece. John peered in. Then he came to the fireplace and got himself a cigarette. He stood smoking for a time gazing at the television. When he moved to leave his wife said, Will you be late?

Nah, doubt it.

Lecky walked ahead of him down to the front door. The two children came out of the bedroom to watch. Time yous were in bed, said John.

The two of them stared at Lecky. He opened the door and stepped onto the landing. John paused a moment behind, he closed over the door; I’ll no be a minute, he said.

Lecky nodded, leaned his elbows on the banister, gazing down to the next landing.

There were two other doors on this top storey; one was boarded up and without a nameplate. Smudges of paint and whitewash covered the walls; a lot of initials had been scratched or pencilled in. Lecky was deciphering some when the door opened and John reappeared. Needed a slash, he said. He winked and jerked his thumb at the boarded-up door: You and your woman no looking for a pad yet?

Eh. . Lecky grinned, scratched the side of his head.

John laughed. Aye well you dont want that yin man the roof’s liable to cave in any moment. He slapped Lecky on the shoulder as they walked downstairs, gestured back up at the other door. That yin’s empty as well but. Get in and squat!

Lecky chuckled.

They continued down. At the foot of the close John told him to wait while he went through and out the back.

There was a terrible smell of cats’ piss about the place. Lecky strolled to the front close and poked his head out. It still wasnt raining.

Then John’s footsteps. Heh Lecky. . John winked and tugged back the right sleeve of his anorak; he was holding two circular steel bars about half-an-inch in diameter; their ends nestled inside the palm of his right hand. I’ve had them planked in the fucking didgie all week, he said, fucking midden men — I was worried in case they found them.

Lecky grinned.

Did you mind the busfare?

Aye, the auld man.

For me and all?

Aye, I knew you’d be skint — as usual! Lecky laughed and dodged off when John tried to land a punch on his chin. As they started walking he turned the collar of his jerkin up and gave an exaggerated shiver: Fucking freezing!

It’s your nerves!

My nerves. .!

Aye your nerves ya cunt ye.

So? Lecky grinned after a moment. Doesni mean I’m no cauld. What about you? Trying to say you’ve no got any!

Who me? Ye kidding? I’ve just been for a shite twelve times since I ate my supper.

Lecky laughed but it sounded too abrupt. He shivered again, rubbed his hands together with a smack, his shoulders hunching. They crossed over the brow of the hill and turned the corner, and could see the lights of a double-decker bus stationed away below at the terminus. John yelled: Ya bastard! And they raced off down the slope.

The guy they were meeting was waiting in a pub near the Saltmarket. He was older than John, he looked nearly thirty, he had a moustache drooping at the corners. The two of them used to work in the same bottling factory a while back. His name was Ray. He had an almost-full pint of lager sitting in front of him. John made the introductions then started in on a yarn about this bloke who drove a forklift and smoked dope all the time. But Ray interrupted him by gesturing at Lecky: Did you fill the boy in?

John paused. Aye, he said.

Ye sure?

John frowned.

I’ve got to fucking ask, muttered Ray.

John nodded. He said to Lecky, Did I fill ye in?

Aye.

Ye know what you’re doing then? asked Ray.

Aye.

Ray nodded after a moment.

Run over the details with him if ye want to fucking check, said John.

Ray frowned at him. Aw aye, in here — that would be a good idea.

John said nothing, his right hand was in his pocket. He raised his left hand to his mouth and he chewed at his thumbnail. He looked at Lecky who looked back at him, then he looked at Ray. Ray shook his head slightly and said, I just mean there’s aye some cunt with big ears John, that’s all I mean. . He sniffed: Did ye mind the equipment?

John grinned suddenly at Lecky and he nodded at the nearby wall: Nice decor in this place innit!

Lecky smiled.

Soon Ray was swallowing down the rest of his lager and was leading the way through the bar to the exit. Down the street he stopped off at a shop and bought a packet of chewing gum, unwrapped a stick and shoved it into his mouth. Then he ripped the cellophane off a ten packet of cigarettes and withdrew one, shut the packet.

Thanks mate, said John.

Ray opened it again and gave him one, and he gave one to Lecky without a word.

No chewing gum? said John.

Ray sighed and brought the packet back out.

They walked steadily, Ray always a stride or two ahead of the other pair. The place was way along east, not far from the river, a sort of minor industrial estate which had been created mainly by renovating old warehouses and other disused buildings, but there were also newer buildings, long one-storey structures. The area itself was old, the streets still part-cobbled; most of it now in total darkness.

Lecky wasnt sure what the time was; the last he had seen was the clock on the mantelpiece in John’s kitchen. By now it had to be getting on for eleven o’clock, maybe after. Turning down a wee side street they continued along parallel to the main road. Three blocks on Ray halted before another corner and carried on alone. Lecky glanced at John but John stared after Ray, not making any comment. Ray stood in from the corner, gazing round it; then he waved them on, whispering just loudly enough for them both to hear: Come here and see this. .

He was pointing to one of the one-storey structures across the other side of the street. All its lights seemed to be switched on inside. Plus there was the sound of machinery coming from it, a dull throbbing noise. It’s a fucking nightshift, he whispered.

They stared across at it for several moments. Ray was shaking his head. A fucking nightshift, he muttered. Then he pointed out the building facing it, on the same side as they were now standing. It was an older building and looked like an ordinary three-storey tenement. That’s our gaff there, he said, down in the basement. We’re supposed to go in from the front shop above. Look, it’s right across from that main entrance.

John said, Jesus Christ.

Fucking unbelievable.

Did your mate no tell ye like?

Naw Christ, he couldni have known.

Surely he could’ve fucking found out?

He probably didni even think about it John.

Fucking dickie.

Ray stepped away from the corner and he leant against the wall. He brought out his cigarettes and passed one to each of the other two, flicked his lighter. When they were smoking he said, It’s a bastard. Anybody could come walking out and they’d see us a mile away. Even if they just looked out the fucking window.

Lecky frowned. He said, D’you mean ye didni know there was a nightshift on at all?

Ray glanced at him then glanced away.

And John replied, Naw Lecky, that’s what he’s saying.

Wh! Lecky shook his head: No knowing they were working a nightshift man that’s mental.

Ray turned sharply to John: What’s up with your mate, has he got a problem?

John sniffed, he started chewing on his left thumbnail.

Fucking mental, said Lecky.

Ray looked at him: D’ye think I’d brought yous if I’d fucking knew? Eh? Do us a favour.

Lecky didnt reply. John now walked to the corner, the cigarette cupped in his left hand. He stood peering round for a while, then he looked back and said quietly, We can still go in. Come here. .

Both Ray and Lecky went to the corner.

There’s nobody came out since we’ve been here, he said.

Aye but, Ray was shaking his head, Christ sake John that’s no even five minutes.

Five minutes — fuck sake man that’s all it takes.

I dont know.

It’s all it takes.

Ray was still shaking his head.

What do you think Lecky?

I dont know.

We can definitely do it. . John turned from the corner to inhale on his cigarette, he blew the smoke away before peering back at the one-storey building. Eh. .?

Eventually Ray whispered, Fucking chancy.

John continued to stare in the direction of the low building, and at the old tenement facing it. Lecky took a last drag on his fag before nipping it and sticking it into his jerkin pocket. Some more drops of water landed on his face and he squinted upwards. Fucking raining, he said.

John was frowning at Ray: Listen man I’ve been going about sweating for days cause of this; fucking wife and weans man they’re feart to come near me.

I’m just saying it’s chancy, that’s aw.

Chancy! I know it’s fucking chancy. John shook his head, cleared his throat and spat the spittle to the gutter. I know it’s fucking chancy.

Aye well that’s all I’m saying.

John looked at him, and then he was walking out from the corner and down the street across from the one-storey building. And Ray followed immediately, the pair keeping close in to the shadows at the side of the old tenement wall. A moment later and Lecky set off at the rear, aware of a funny feeling in his legs. The other two had gone about ten yards beyond the doorway of the shop they were entering and when Lecky reached them they both waved him on to where he was to position himself, down by the corner of the street and the main road. Immediately he arrived he struck a match against the wall and got one of his nips burning, sucking the smoke deep into his lungs and trapping it there, staring to the right and to the left, and back to the right, and nothing was coming thank fuck, nothing. John was staring at him. He signalled it was okay: moments later he could hear the chinks of the steel bars, and then a really loud racket of a noise, a rattling it was, really really loud, a really really loud rattling noise. It was coming from down the way and across and he pressed himself back against the wall, sidled round the corner to the pavement on the main road; he tossed the fag into a puddle then peered back round the corner. It was actually a mechanical gate, it was getting hoisted up across in the place where the nightshift was working. A chain seemed to be hoisting the fucking thing. A big wide entrance. Inside a big lorry was getting loaded up. A couple of men doing it. They were talking away about something, their voices carrying. And the driver was in the lorry and switched on the starter, the engine revving up, the headlight beams. And then other headlight beams away in the distance of something coming on the main road, a motor car, travelling fast. Lecky kept tight into the wall. After it passed he peered round the corner again, seeing the lorry now being guided out by a big skinny guy in dungarees and specs, and if he was just to walk another twenty yards or something he would be right into the shop doorway and they wouldnt be able to hide from him. Lecky stepped back out of sight, his eyes closing but opening almost immediately — it was the last thing to do — he glanced round the corner. The lorry had turned now and the driver’s head was at the window, he was exchanging words with the big skinny guy Lecky stepped into the shadowiest bit of the wall. Soon the lorry appeared at the corner, the driver turning the wheel hand over fist, and breaking a moment to shift gear; and it was out onto the main road, picking up speed. Lecky stared after it until the red tail-lights were no longer visible. Another motor car was coming. He stayed where he was until it too had gone. When he peered back round he saw John away along at the far corner, beckoning to him. Across at the nightshift building the entrance gaped open but the workers had disappeared. Lecky stood a moment; again John beckoned: this time he went quickly, not running but trotting as quietly as he could.

Okay Lecky. .?

Aye — fuck. Lecky grinned: Close, eh?

Aye.

Fucking close alright, muttered Ray. Fucking lucky.

Aye.

John winked at Lecky. We’re aye fucking lucky, int we?

Aye.

John was smoking. He exhaled and jerked his thumb at Ray: He wants to wrap it.

Fucking right I want to wrap it, said Ray.

How come? Lecky asked.

Cause it’s fucking wild.

Lecky glanced at John, and John handed him the fag. Lecky took a couple of drags on it.

Ray shook his head. Fucking wild, he said to John.

John took the fag back from Lecky before replying: Away hame then.

Ray brushed the tip of his nose with his right thumb, he sniffed, spat out the chewing gum he had in his mouth. John started rubbing his hands together and he hunched his shoulders up and down. He said to Lecky: What about you man ye into it?

Lecky shrugged.

Eh?

I dont know.

Ye want to do it?

I dont know man.

Eh?

Lecky shrugged.

It’s fucking wild, muttered Ray. He turned sideways and stared along the street; he turned back: Look John there’s always fucking the morrow know what I mean. . Why take risks.

I need the fucking dough, it’ll no be there the morrow.

Ray gazed at him.

Lecky? said John.

Lecky shrugged. I’m easy.

Fuck sake. .

Well what d’ye want me to say?

What do I want ye to say I want ye to say if you’ll fucking do it, that’s what I want ye to say!

Lecky looked at him.

Just fucking say it, if ye want to fucking do it, if ye dont fucking dont, dont fucking say it, ye just fucking do what ye want.

Lecky said nothing.

I mean ye make up your own fucking mind, it’s your own fucking opinion, that’s what fucking counts Lecky.

Lecky frowned.

Innit?

Lecky stared at him.

John shrugged. Just do what ye fucking want to do.

Lecky’s mouth was dry, he swallowed saliva. I’ll do it, he said.

Dont do it for me.

I’m no. .

Ray peeled another stick of chewing gum; he gestured with it at the other two but they didnt respond. When he took out his cigarettes Lecky glanced at him and he gave him one. Ray was looking at John.

The three of them waited another few minutes but nothing arrived and nothing departed; the entrance still gaped open. Ray led the way, Lecky continuing on to his position at the corner of the main road. When he reached it and looked back the other two were out of sight. From somewhere he could hear a vague whining sound like the engine of a bus revving and straining in too low a gear, then it had died into silence.

A clank. Coming from the shop doorway. Another clank then a crash. Really fucking loud. Lecky stepped back against the wall, squinting across at the windows of the nightshift building. The faces looking! But there werent any. Nobody was there at all. Thank fuck for that.

And now silence. The two of them were inside. Lecky edged out from the corner, seeing both ways into the distance. If he did see a squad car he would fucking whistle. No he wouldnt that would be fucking mad, fucking mental, he would just stay still, he would wait, he would wait till it had passed. No he wouldnt he would whistle, he would have to, unless he just ran down, he would have to run down, he could run down quick before they came, he would have to tell them, otherwise they wouldnt fucking know, they wouldnt know they were fucking there. He had smoked the whole of Ray’s fag. He had nothing in his pockets. Even a bit of chewing gum! He walked a couple of paces away along the main road, turned back. No sign of the moon anywhere. It was funny how it disappeared. Clouds were so fucking thin but they could hide the moon. He got to the corner and looked round and there was the man in dungarees, the big skinny guy with the specs, he had seen Lecky; he was smoking and had taken the cigarette from his mouth while staring over; now he was staring into the shop doorway, now back to Lecky. And Lecky stood still. If the guy didnt actually see him but was just staring in the general direction. He wasnt, he was watching; you could tell, just by the way he was standing, he was obviously fucking watching, the fag sticking out his mouth. Lecky stepped back behind the corner. A moment later he peered round again: the man in the dungarees continued to stare at him. What to do. He walked a few paces away from the street, along the main road. What was he to do? He stopped and turned. What. Back to the corner. Fuck. Right round it and along to the shop doorway, that fucking bastard still standing there staring, fucking staring bastard, skinny big specky-eyed bastard standing there fucking staring as if he was a fucking sentry on guard duty, fucking Buckingham fucking Palace. Lecky stopped opposite him and he stared across, the big skinny guy staring back. He wanted a smoke, a smoke would fucking be good. And then the man about-turned and went in through a door and Lecky moved smartly into the shop and the interior, pitch-dark till his eyes got accustomed and there was another room; stairs down to the basement: John! John! Lecky yelled: John! Fuck sake!

Silence.

John! Quick! Right now! Move!

Then a loud banging sound and foosteps rushing and Ray was in view below. That big bastard, cried Lecky.

What?

He saw us, he’s away to fucking do us. Quick!

What? Who ye fucking talking about?

Him, the big skinny bastard — the one that reversed out the lorry.

Ray was gazing up at him.

Honest man I’m no kidding ye, he’s away to fucking grass us, yous better fucking come. .

But Ray was off before he finished talking and he felt like going right after him, gubbing him one on the fucking mouth, ignorant bastard, he was a fucking ignorant bastard — a good bit aulder than Lecky but so what: Lecky was bigger and he was fucking harder, he knew he was fucking harder, and he would knock fuck out him. So fucking ignorant. Lecky stared down into the basement, so gloomy and dark. Where the fuck was John? He glanced back at the doorway, walked towards it, then stopped. What was he to do. Another room to the side, also in darkness. He stepped a pace and his heel crunched glass, a lot of it. Sounds from the basment but quite vague and far away. Bloody smell of dampness too, like fungus or something — it was as if the place hadnt been used for years. So dark. He stood still. The very last thing was to close his eyes, no even for a moment.

Was that a thump! He crouched. It was like a thump. He stood very still then dashed to the top of the basement stairs and shouted, John! John! Fuck sake come on!

Nothing. They didnt answer.

There were no sounds at all. He needed a pish. Fucking desperate. He went a step while unzipping his fly, started peeing, there was steam, a steady ssssss, it was calming; ssssss. If there werent any sounds from below it meant they had stopped and were in through to the other place, they had made the breakthrough. He stepped back. A dribble of urine down his leg. He walked a few paces, again crunching glass. He bent to the floor and picked out a long sliver which would act as a weapon, a knife — and there was that good feeling when he held it tight; it was knowing it was dangerous just by that alone, by the way you held it tight in your hand without any gloves to cover it, its ragged edges, how they would cut into you. And what was that was that a thump? it sounded like a big fucking thump! Lecky had crouched and now he stood perfectly still and there were footsteps. It was a polis standing in from the front doorway wearing one of these big fucking black coats; funny how they always fucking wore them. Lecky flashed the sliver of glass in his right hand. Dont come fucking near, he said, or I’ll cut your face.

The polis watched him. Then disappeared. Away for handers. Them and their fucking handers they always had fucking handers, you never knew how many there were going to be, dirty bastards.

Another pish, it was desperate, he moved quickly, into the room he had last been, to the far side, doing the pee immediately. Then back to the top of the basement stairs, the sliver of glass back in his right hand. But he didnt want to go down the fucking stairs because he would be trapped. Where was fucking John? And that other cunt. Where the fuck.

Plus the voices, footsteps. Trying to be low; keeping things low — as if he was fucking stupid or deaf or something. Bastards. Fucking funny polis right enough. Lecky felt a dampness in his hand like blood or sweat or something, a stickiness. What would he do would he just fucking drop it and just let it go and get down into the basement man if there was a place to get out, a fucking hole maybe — where had they went? The glass, getting crunched, their big fucking feet now, there wasnt going to be time.