Me and Ma Gal E-Book

Des Dillon

• Herausgeber: Luath Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 184

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Meet Derruck Danyul Riley and his best mate, Gal. This tale of two inseparable Scottish lads follows their scrapes growing up in Coatbridge, from egg-hunting to outrunning the fearsome Bricklayer. Life in Coatbridge is not always fun and games, though, and the boys learn what friendship truly means in the face of danger. Des Dillon's award-winning debut perfectly captures the vitality and intensity of boyhood friendship, as well as painting a vivid picture of contemporary Scotland.

Leseprobe

DES DILLON was born and brought up in Coatbridge, Lanarkshire, in 1960, and read English at Strathclyde University. A former teacher, he is now a poet, short story writer, novelist and dramatist writing for radio, stage, television and film, and has been a scriptwriter for High Road and River City. He has taught Creative Writing at the Arvon Foundation, and was Writer in Residence at Castlemilk, Glasgow, between 1998 and 2000. Des now lives in Galloway.

To date he is the author of seven novels and one poetry collection. His novel, Me and Ma Gal, was shortlisted for the Saltire Society Scottish First Book of the Year Award and won the 2003 World Book Day ‘We Are What We Read’ poll for the novel that best describes Scotland today. It is to be broadcast as a drama on Radio 4 in 2004. A short film of Duck was premiered at Edinburgh Film Festival in 1998 and in 2003 his play Lockerbie 103 went on national tour. Des has adapted Six Black Candles into a play which won the International Festival of Playwriting Award in 2001, and in 2004 played at the Royal Lyceum Theatre in Edinburgh.

I think it’s a modern Scottish classic… I’ve read it three times. It’s romantic, true, honest and very sensitively done, so sparely written that each word counts. There’s an assumption out there that Des Dillon is a yobbo from the sticks. In reality, he’s anything but – and he’s a cunning, sophisticated writer.GILES GORDON, THE SCOTSMAN

This first novel is a Scottish Classic – no, a classic which is Scottish. Read it.KATE BLACKADDER, SCOTTISH BOOK COLLECTOR

This is a well nigh perfect balancing act.DOUGLAS GIFFORD, BOOKS IN SCOTLAND

Also by Des Dillon:

Fiction

The Big Empty: A Collection of Short Stories (1996)

Duck (1998)

Itchycooblue (1999)

Return of the Busby Babes (2000) The Big Q (2001)

Six Black Candles (2002)

The Glasgow Dragon (2004)

Poetry

Picking Brambles (2003)

First published in 1995 by Argyll Publishing

First Headline Review edition 2001

First Luath edition 2004

This edition 2020

Des Dillon has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

ISBN: 978-1-910324-70-7

Typeset in 9.5 point Frutiger

by Main Point Books

© Des Dillon 1995

For the bold Gal. You shared the most dazzling days of my life.

Picking brambles;

sunshine wilting

on late September shoulders.

Remember the burns and rivers

rubbing water on the browning backs

of me and Stevie Gallacher.

The rain falls

like a curtain call.

Sun ships between clouds

and rainbow roars its encore

to a world that is forever moving on

and leaving Stevie Gallacher

splashing in moving memory.

And me?

I’m picking brambles all the while.

CONTENTS

Me and Ma Gal

The Tecs

The Bricklayer

The Burn

Hell Tar

The Workies

The Golfie

Mental Terry

Strangler Joe

The Lochs

Me and Ma Gal

I mind the first time I ever seen the bold Gal. Well, I might have seen him before cos you can never tell. I mean I might have walked by him in the street but I never even knew what he looked like so I don’t really know if I ever saw him. But I guess that I must’ve. Where we lived was the kind of place that you could see someone you never knew… and the next day you’d know them.

Anyway, I met him this day. He was kickin a stone about at the bottom of the lane of houses we had just flitted into. We called it The Lane cos it was a lane but it was ours. It was as wide as me an Gal bein two planes, touchin wing tips an there was a row of five-apartment houses on each side… full of hundreds of wanes. You could be a plane an land in it. Sometimes I’d have propellers that hardly worked, an even with one wing fallin off, I could land in the lane safe. It was even safer with Gal commandin me in from up there in one of the lamp posts. The lane was that long they gave us two lamp posts.

Sometimes it was a rushy football pitch. I never was very good at the rushy football but you couldn’t beat me at Time Racin round the block. Gal always brought people to race me an every time I used to tank them, so I did. God, you should’ve seen me zoomin about – like Billy Whizz – down the lane, leanin into The Houses as I churned round the corner. Sometimes ma face was so close to the roughcast that people, Gal an them, would think he’s goin to scrape his face off that wall an then he’ll need to go to hospital… they never ever said that but that was what they used to think; every time I sped into a corner they thought it. It was one of them things that you just know.

The only time I nearly got beat is when I whizzed round a corner an cracked heads with Jerry Brolly. I seen birds an stars like in the Beano but I ran on, jammin ma left eye open with ma fingers. Jerry was fat an slow so I went slow so that I could stagger over the finishin line just in time (Linda Curie an Ellen Rettie always watched the Time Racin), with the cut I had from us crashin into each other.

Well!

I nearly never got there on time cos Jerry Brolly came blubberin down the lane early an I had to break out of the wounded stagger and put a spurt on or he’d’ve won.

Anyway, The Lane was our bit, once you got there, no matter what you were runnin from, you were home.

So. I’m at the bottom of this here lane that I’m bumpin ma gums about. I’m down there like a dog markin out new territory. All the time I kept a right good lookout for any Big Guys cos they were always on the lookout for some of us so that they could terrorise us with them hatchets that’s made out of a bean tin bashed down, flat, over a stick. I knew all about that from the oul house.

Next thing I knows is a guy comes kickin a stone past me.

Past me again.

Past me again.

I knew he wanted to talk to me but was too scared to talk. He looked as if he knew that I wanted to talk to him but that I was too scared too.

I looked tough.

He kicked the stone an looked tough back at me. I was just about to spit an show him who was boss when he brought one up from halfway down his gullet an grogged it onto the new slabs. As if that wasn’t enough, while I was thinkin about somethin tough to do back to him he rolled the stone into the grogger. With his left hand in his pocket he turns round an crushes his face at me. For a minute I thinks it’s like a plate of porridge but I don’t laugh. In some kind of answer I dug ma heel into the ground hundreds of times. I surprised myself at ma strongness an the massive hole that I made in the ground. Gal just turned back to his stone.

I put ma two hands behind me an lifted myself onto the fence. It was diggin into the back of ma legs but I never wanted him to know that so I never screamed or said… this is dead sore… or anythin like that. I just looked at the Workies’ Huts at the bottom of the lane as if I knew somethin about them that he didn’t.

Well that done the trick cos there he was starin at the grey Workies’ Compound then at ma face. I shrunk ma eyes like Awday Murfy in the cowboy films so that he’d know I was onto somethin he never knew nothin about.

He looks at the huts.

He looks at me.

I knew he was just about to speak. But you can’t just ask a guy what he’s thinkin cos that gives him the bossy seat, so Gal had to say somethin that would get him tough enough to go with the stone an the grog he had done for me a minute ago.

I jumps off the fence an wandered about so that he could get the time to think of somethin to say. Some buildin trucks roared by an threw clouds of desert dust at us so that we waved our hands so that we could see. You had to shut your eyes so our hands kept on slapping thegether. Gal started to choke at me so I choked back at him. I always member that as the first thing we done thegether; we choked and slapped hands. I always used to say to Gal that there can’t be a lot of people who started hangin about thegether after slappin hands an nearly gettin choked to death with desert dust. It was a dangerous place, a scheme that was all half-built houses and piles of rubble.

After the dust went away we could see each other an we never needed to choke any more. We just eyed each other up an down an ignored each other an followed each other about… if you know what I mean.

I was just decidin to go back up the lane into our new house with two toilets when he looks at me an I knew he was goin to talk. I never wanted to put him off so I leaned forward, goggled ma eyes an opened ma mouth so that he knew that I knew he was just about to talk. I learnt that from Teachers.

What’s your name? I looks at him.

He looks at me. Eh?

I asked him leanin forward nearly fallin over. I could lean forward more than anybody I knew. People used to always say that about me; he can’t half lean forward him they used to say when I wasn’t there. Gal looked amazed at that too.

He spits, out the side of his top lip, in a friendly sort of way an says again: What’s your name then?

Derruck Daniel Riley.

I looks at him waitin for him to tell me what a crackin name I had. He stopped an took it all in, you could tell he was doin that cos even though his eyes were open they weren’t really lookin at anythin… they were lookin at the things inside his head. It made me feel good that he was lookin inside his head at ma name. He thought for ages about it. I thought I was goin to miss ma dinner. After ages an ages he jags his finger up in the air about the height of his ear. I knew he was goin to speak. By this time in life I was gettin quite good at tellin when people were goin to speak.

Derruck Riley?… Derruck Danyul Riley?

He was well jarred with that name. I could tell cos he shouted it out loud an laughed a tiny bit after he said that. People always laughed when you shocked them with somethin good. Specially a good name.

Derruck Danyul Riley… Derruck Danyul Riley… He kept on saying that walking round in a circle like it was some kind of Wizard or Warlock spell he was doin.

This time I wasn’t really sure what way he was sayin it. For a minute I thought he was laughin at me but I still felt good. It felt good cos the only people that called you Derrick Daniel Riley was the Teachers an Father Boyle. An when they said it always made you feel bad – as if you done somethin wrong – it made you shrink dead wee like when Priests talk to you.

An what’s your name?

You could tell he wanted me to ask that cos he turns away an kids on that he never heard me. But I knew that he heard me cos he paused a bit when he kidded on that he was just turnin away as I asked him. I decided that I liked him an that’s why I asked him again.

I said what’s your name?

Oh… right… ma name… Steven… Gallacher…

Steven withaVnotaPH. He looks me right in the eye. I looks at him. Even though it sounded dead interestin, you know, all this V an PH stuff, I couldn’t think of anythin to say. I wanted to say somethin about it. I know that it was somethin really important cause of the way he was actin but I still never thought of anythin to say. He was waitin.

That’s good, I said lookin at him to see if that was good enough. He seemed happy with the fact that it was good an shook his head an soldiers from side to side, smilin. He always done that did the Gal fellah. He always used to bounce from side to side if he was really happy or chuffed with somethin he done. But he specially done it when someone else told him that somethin he done was really good. Sometimes he’d do that to me when he beat me at cards an it made me ragin.

After all that action we were quiet for a while. We had to think.

He got a bigger stone an kicked it around a bit. He never spat this time. I think he was happy an that’s why he never spat.

I jumped back onto the fence again. This time I was happy an it never mattered to me how hard the fence was diggin into me no way was I goin to scream now.

The Tecs

Well, me an Gal started hangin around thegether. The town was criss-crossed by millions an millions of railways. They went everywhere so they did. You couldn’t go anywhere an you’d come to a railway. All the towns on the telly had rivers – we had railways. You always had to cross one. If you didn’t go over the tracks you had to go round the long way an you’d have to be krazy or oul or really scared of trains to go round the long way. Goin round the long way always took ages an ages. Sometimes I went the long way if I was on ma own. That’s how I know how long it takes. But me an Gal never took the long way.

Everywhere we went we never took the long way. Honest! We used The Railways every time we went out. But to get to the story I’m supposed to tell you. Oh! that’s right you probably don’t know about this story. Well our Teacher told us to magine we were tellin someone about the most membered bit when you were young. This is what was on the board:

Write a story about a day in your childhood which really left an impression on you. Imagine you are actually telling the story to someone other than your Teacher. Check spelling and punctuation before you hand this in. The best story will get a Fizzy Lizzy and two MB bars.

We’re supposed to magine a person we are telling it to. So I’m telling it to you. This is ma story about the time someone was goin about killin boys that were the same age as me an Gal. Our Maws an Das were never done tellin us to stay away from The Railway an The Burn an up The Lochs. An they always used to shout,

How many times have I told you not to go near them effin railways?!!?

An you felt like sayin ten or twelve or somethin but you never. Well, you could if you wanted a swift cuff on the ear.

That’s why I’m tellin this story cause two boys had already been found dead. Strangled an abyoosed. One was dead for three weeks before they found him under The Pipe at The Burn. Gal even knew the dead boy’s cousin! You couldn’t get near it for all us after the Fuzz were away. We were crawling through each others legs to get there. The other one was found in bushy bits up The Lochs. He was strangled an abyoosed too. I knew it would never happen to me an Gal. We were too clever an the bold Gal knew some neat moves. But our Maws an Das acted as if you were goin to get it the next time you walked out the effin door, like we were number one on his list an Strangler Joe was waitin in the back shed specially for you! That never frightened us.

Trains frightened me an Gal sometimes, like, they’d sneak up behind you an blow that big horn.

WOOO HOOO they’d go.

Sometimes you could hear it through your feet. That made you jump so it did, it really made you jump. Nobody ever never jumped when a train sneaked up behind them an blasted its horn. I don’t care what they say it’s an impossibility. You’ve got to jump and that’s that. They said that trains went on the left. They’re always sayin stupid things like that: Trains always run on the left… trains always run on the left…

Aye! right yar, I mean how are you supposed to know what one is the right an what one is the left? That’s right, you can’t tell, an me an Gal used to go for miles an miles on the tracks without knowin what was left an right. So you can see that, if you never knew your railways, it could be a really dangerous place. But we had a plan for trains. We always had a plan. Even for Strangler Joe.

But the best plan was the one that we kept for The Railway Tecs. Boy were they daft. Sometimes the Train Tecs would try an get you. They must’ve thought that we were daft as well cos they used to shout from miles away:

STOP RIGHT THERE!!

We would always stop when they shouted that. I was great at stoppin when they shouted. I’d kind of stop dead as if I had been frozen to the spot by their magic shout. I seen it in a film. Gal’d just copy me cos he never could do it as good. We always copied each other if we weren’t sure. It was spooky. If I was rubbish at somethin Gal could always do it great an the other way round, I could do great things that Gal couldn’t do.

Amazin.

So there we were – stopped as anythin – an we’d always look half daft at each other. The Tecs would think, Hello hello this is our lucky day an run full force at us. They got bigger an bigger an we laughed more an more. Sometimes I’d get a wee bit scared cos Gal’d leave it ages before he gave the secret signal to run. Three short clicks like Skippy an

BOUNCE

we were off. They got right next to us an Gal gave the three clicks. We ran like Lintees in different directions. We always done that, ran in different directions that was our best plan. If there was somethin you knew us for it was for runnin in different directions. We used to amaze people with that one so we did. We would meet at a certain place that we agreed on earlier. Every mornin when we met we would say a place. The Oil Pond, The Slaggy, The Gravy, The Widdy or somethin. We were two smart cookies all right me an the Gal fellah. We left them Tecs scratchin their heads. They never knew what to do. Sometimes I felt sorry for the Tecs. Makin them look so daft an that. There they were scratchin their heads, a right pair of twadgers, sweatin, fat an red, or skinny an grey (you only got two kinds of Tecs).

It was worse if we used to call them all the names under the sun… sometimes I never wanted to shout at them but you felt like it was your duty. It was them an us. Everybody in Coatbridge felt it was them an us. Sometimes they’d call us Fenian Bastards. The first time I asked ma Maw what that was an she said,

Get out of ma road I’m makin the dinner.

That was a better answer than usual. She usually said,

That’s great son… that’s great son.

Sometimes I went like this: Maw… Maw… I just killed this guy… bashed him to death with a swish roll… chocolate.

That’s great son… that’s great son.

There was eleven of us so she was always makin the dinner or somethin. I only ever seen her backside cos she was always facin away doin this an that. She’d show her face at weddins an that. But ma Da knew what it was an he told me:

It means Catholic son… Fenian means Catholic… who was it called you that?

The Train Tecs and we weren’t even over the fence we were just lookin at the trains goin…

He closed the door as he left the room an I could hear the music for the news. To this day I don’t know what big people see in the news. So that’s how I knew what Fenian meant. The thing that I could never understand - me an Gal wondered for a whole afternoon about it - was how they knew that me an Gal were Catholics plus… how could they tell such detail from so far away. Big Gal – Gal’s Da – said it must’ve been the way we walked. We went outside the Chapel an watched them coming out… he was right they did walk funny.