Bill and the UFO11

Bill followed Todger, who followed his nose, which always seemed to snout-about in one direction and find Wendy’s arse. The long afternoon sun was twisting and fading; resting on top of oak, birch, ash and pine; tip-toeing through and colouring in leaves; calling the common Blackbird, Thrush, and Finches to perform like vaudevillian front men touting for business.

Rab had grown bored with shouting ‘fore’ and watching the golfers on the second tee, just off Dalmuir Park, flinch and duck their necks down.
He was hidden in the shadows of the Silver Birch and peeked out when they turned and held their hand up to their eyes, a finger cap against the sun, and looked in the general direction of his sister Wendy and him.

Summy was first to express the general malaise, hanging like midges in the air. ‘I’m going home.’ He sat on the beginning and end of the rough stone wall, overgrown with moss and lichen and looked down towards the burn; his head flicking back looking towards the Park gates at the top as if they were ready to clang shut. ‘There’s nothing here for us now.’

Phil stood behind him, on the edge of the crumbling overgrown slope. He bit at his lip, dithering and daring himself to go a bit further forward, so that he could see right down the stream towards the waterfall, where there was meant to be trout, but the tread on his old summer sannies were worn out and he felt his left foot slip, and almost go from under him. His feet retreated back to the relative safety of the dirt path. He quickly checked to see if Summy had seen him bottling it. ‘I’m starving, and it’s potatoes, turnip, onion and sausage tonight.’ He smacked his lips together and swatted at the midges.

Summy sneezed. ‘I wish I could go home.’ But then he quickly turned towards Phil. ‘How do you know exactly what you’ll be getting?’

‘Because it’s a Thursday.’

Summy sniffed. ‘What do you get on Friday?’

‘Fish.’

‘Saturday?’

‘Chips out of the chippie.’ Phil sounded rather proud of that.

Summy’s face screwed up in incomprehension like a windae licker. ‘What do you have with fish on Friday?’

‘Chips.’

‘But you have chips on Saturday.’

‘That’s out of the chippie.’ Phil swatted some midges away. He could see that Summy didn’t get it. ‘My mum makes her own fish and chips on a Friday.’

‘How can she make her own fish?’ Summy gloated. There was a sneer on his lips.

‘No-oh, she doesn’t make the fish. She buys it off the van and puts Riskolene on it. And she makes chips in the chip pan.’

Summy sneezed, and held his hands up, indicating he was going to sneeze again. ‘Is that Riskolene no’ dangerous, like paraffin, that catches fire when you put it in the chip pan?’

‘Nah, Riskolene’s like orange dandruff.’

Summy sniffed, his eyes were watering and he waved his hands about, pushing his knuckles up to the corners of his eyes. ‘I feel as if those midges are creeping about in the corners of my eyes.’ He looked up at Phil. ‘That Riskolene, is that no’ the stuff you use to feed goldfish? Funny that, ain’t it, you feed it to fish and then eat them. That’s like cannibalistic.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘It would be quicker just eating the gold fish.’

Phil tried to keep the bitterness from his voice. ‘What did you get then?’ He slipped as he moved towards Summy, but quickly regained his balance.

Summy watched the quiver and lop-sided grace of a Red Admiral flitting and turning and going nowhere in particular. ‘Smash.’

Phil waited for something more. ‘Smash and what?’

‘Smash, just Smash. I don’t know. My mum doesn’t like fussing.’ Summy used a tree limb to pull himself up with a sudden jerky movement. He couldn’t meet Phil’s eyes. He looked over to where Todger was splashing about in the stream, with Bill standing on the banking, shouting orders, as if the dog ever listened.

Wendy had come to stand beside them. ‘Smash looks like cat sick.’ She made a face and feigned throwing up, but quickly stopped because nobody was taking any notice of her.

‘My mum said that Smash has everything in it, but potato.’ Phil, without thinking about it, folded his arms in the same way as his mum and set his face in the same disgusted manner.

‘What does she know?’ Phil scrambled to get up from his sitting position. ‘She’s…’

A golf ball was sliced from the first green and ricocheted from tree to tree. ‘Those bastards never even shouted fore.’ Rab sounded angry because he’d dropped down, hiding behind a bush as if they were being shelled.

Todger ran from Rab to Wendy. She kicked out with her foot, shoving him away. The dog turned his attention to Summy, then to Phil, his tongue hanging out shaking water out of his coat and sniffing for food.

Bill laughed, as if it were some kind of new trick that he’d taught Todger. ‘They’re playing cards, behind the garage.’

The Council had erected a temporary shed between the first and second hole of the golf course to keep grass rakes, brushes, hoes and spades - all the accoutrements of a Municipal course. But over the years the temporary structure had been added to like a shantytown and another more permanent brick building added which made it L shaped. Tons of sand were stored at the back for the sand dunes on the course, which backed down onto the stream. When the stream got low, mid summer, rocks were used as stepping-stones to get to the other side, which was near the shops, houses, and multi-storey flats. Kids, and even some adults, came from all over to lie about on the sand and play cards.

‘Let’s go down and have a look.’ Rab fingered the change in his denim pocket.

‘I’m goin’ home.’ Summy caught Phil’s eye. ‘What you doin’?’

‘Dunno.’ Phil shrugged. ‘I’m no doin’ anything, and I’m gettin’ pretty hungry.’

But he’d already started walking down the path towards Rab and Wendy. Bill was in the lead, because it had been his idea and Todger bounced ahead because he smelt something, or nothing.

Summy looked at the Park gates. He had difficulty swallowing as if the words of his leave-taking were stuck in his throat. He stubbed his toes on the hill going upwards on the unpaved path, before turning back the way he’d come. ‘Wait for me.’ He let gravity pull him forward and he started running down the slope, free as a kite, catching up with his mates.