Ugly Puggly 86

Laura’s car was parked at the back of the Hub. A red thing, which was the colour of her shoes, small enough for one, but with two doors. The old debate of who was sitting in the back was settled by wee Jim taking charge. Cocooned inside and peering out from the back seat into the rain, he was the first to notice that Dave had appeared at our back.

He’d a white Nike baseball cap keeping the rain off his hair and his clothes were equally radiant colours. ‘Hi yah,’ his smile was brittle as it was uncertain.

‘Whit yeh daeing up here, yah cunt?’ I asked.

‘Jist passin,’ he made a joke of it, his eyes meeting Laura’s.

‘Who told yeh I was here?’ I eyeballed him. ‘It’s meant tae be anonymous. Alcoholics Anonymous.’ I turned to wee Jim for support. ‘Yeh get that part? Anonymous. No a fuckin gay disco.’

Wee Jim clambered out of the back seat. ‘Easy,’ he said. ‘Easy,’ holding his hands up and out, creating a space to back off. ‘The meetings oer noo. Yeh maybe want tae huv a wee talk among yersel. I’ll jist walk doon the road.’

Laura cut in. ‘No Jim, I’ve offered you a lift, and anyway…’ She cupped her hand to catch the rain. ‘I texted him.’  A jocular ring to her voice. ‘The last time I checked it was a free country. And we were all worried about you.’

‘We were,’ said wee Jim, before she could say any more. ‘Molly was up to high dough. She though yeh were deid.’

‘Molly?’ I whispered and closed my eyes. ‘She doesnae hate me?’ Her refusal to abandon me. I was confronted with the grief of her love and that shamed me more.

‘Hate yeh?’ Wee Jim seemed to find the words ugly. The wonderment showed in his face. ‘She’s haud everybody oot lookin for yeh. Dave’s been up and doon and everywhere in between.’

‘You huv?’

A droplet of rainwater from his peaked hat caught in the light from the back of the Hub and reflected back the spectral glimmer of a dream as Dave nodded. ‘Aye, I looked everywhere.’

‘Let’s get into the car,’ Laura broke the spell.

Wee Jim climbed back into the back seats. The playboy squeezed in beside him. Laura pulled the door shut and checked I’d my seatbelt buckled.

I waited for the car to start. Headlights and brake light and traffic lights and lights from the windows in the Hub, in the houses and shops. They were all in my head. ‘But I was in the hoose.’ I turned around to make sure the playboy heard me.

‘I checked there every day and it was empty.’

The splash of water on puddles, the scrim on pavements that shone oily black and bluish, being rocked by and forth in the front seat was comforting. ‘There used to be a college there,’ I remarked. ‘But I was in.’  

‘You went to college?’ Laura found that amusing.

I found it amusing to. But I corrected her. ‘Nah, but I was in the hoose?’ The beat of rain on the roof was soothing. Kilbowie road revealed itself from present to past and back again. Gaps in memories were pubs and cafes had been and at the bottom of the hill tenements were ships used to rise up and give the town an identity. The seatbelt caught in my midriff. I turned looking for reassurance. ‘You seen me in the hoose, didn’t yeh?’

‘Aye,’ the lines in wee Jim’s face deepened. ‘Yeh ne er hud a phone, but yeh were definitely in the hoose, but that was weeks ago. And yeh wouldnae let me in.’

‘Weeks ago?’    

The playboy said, ‘You look like an auld schoolteacher waiting for somebody to haun yeh an apple.’ That lightened their mood and they smiled at each other. He had their attention. ‘I’ve been approached tae write my life story.’

‘Yev no haud a life,’ I reminded him.

‘But I’ve got 352 000 followers on Instagram.’ He laughed it off. ‘I must be daeing somethin right. I’m goin intae the fashion business.’

‘Sellin whit? Yer arse?’

‘You need to be less abrasive and more understanding.’ Laura took her hands off the steering wheel to chide me.

‘Amen,’ said wee Jim. He might have said more but the playboy was already rambling on.

‘Clothes and jewellery, high-end stuff.’

‘Yer arse. Yev forgot him already. No mentioned him once. Ugly Puggly thought the sun shone oot yer arse.’

‘Don’t call im that.’

‘Alright then. The Howard I knew wanted tae change the world. He loathed the fat cats and wanted tae make a difference. No make a fast buck. Yer too busy thinkin of ways tae make money oot of his memory. And we don’t even know if he’s deid—yet.’

He leaned forward. ‘Yer jist jealous.’

‘I’m ur jealous. Jealous that yer such a dimwit. And Ugly Puggly. Sorry, Howard, spent so much of his god-gien time chasin after yeh.’

‘It wisnae like that.’

‘Aye, it was’ I told him. ‘ Who noo would you trade for Ugly Puggly, or fuckin Howard, or whatever yeh want tae call im?’  

‘Naebody.’

‘My arse.’

That riled him. ‘I’ll dae whit he done then. I’ll put my money intae those roof tiles, like leaves, he was building. We’ve still got the papers.’

‘That’s great, aw tall tales ur.’

‘We’ll go tae France. Contact Amnesty International and aw the other humanitarian organisations and we’ll dae it. We’ll go across in a dinky. Make oor self refugees. That way we’ll be honourin Howard. And daeing somethin worthwhile. Even though we get jailed. It’ll be worth it.’  

‘Jist drop me aff here,’ Wee Jim tapped Laura on the shoulder.

I had to get out the car and stand in the rain to let him out. He squeezed out and stood beside me. ‘I’ll get yeh the morrow night for a meetin?’

‘I’m no sure,’ I said.

He squeezed my arm. ‘I’m sure,’ were his parting remark.

I got back in the car and Laura turned at the roundabout. The playboy leaned forward and started giving her directions to Molly’s house.

‘I cannae go there,’ I told them.

‘Don’t be daft,’ Dave laughed. ‘She’s been dying tae see yeh. She wiz sure yeh were deid. And we’ve no had much good news to share lately.’

‘Whit about yer jewellery collection?’

‘Shut up,’ he told me, but not in a cheeky way. He guided Laura into the side street where she parked the car.