Ugly Puggly 13

I was in the depot and it was near knocking-off time. So I was trying to look busy by opening and shutting the back of the van doors, and skulking behind them as if I was unloading cement or tidying it out. The gaffer sneaked up on me. He was pudgy and around my age, and wore a grey beanie hat pulled overly low, a faker’s fringe to cover his bald head. He smirked. ‘Some poof keeps phoning and insists he wants to speak to you.’ Sticking his hand up like a megaphone, he hollered, ‘Come home, Jim! Come home, yer time is up!’

The other workers nearby looked over but ignored him. The effect he was hoping for fizzled out. He stood blinking, a contrived smile on his lips. ‘Tell him not to fuckin phone again, he’s freaking out the receptionist.’

‘I doubt it,’ I slammed the van doors shut. Some of the guys were already making their way towards the gate and their cars parked in Cart Street. ‘And you can go and take a flying fuck tae yerself.’

He barrelled his chest out and squinted at me. ‘Whit did you just say?’

I brushed past him. ‘You heard me.’

‘This isnae finished,’ he growled. ‘That’s a sacking offence.’

I turned my head and stared at him. ‘For one thing, work’s finished.’ I held my arm up as if checking an imaginary wristwatch. ‘So we’re no longer on council time.’ I poked a finger at his pristine work jumper. ‘And you’re no longer my gaffer. We’re just two guys havin a nice wee conversation.’ I leaned across so our heads were almost touching and whispered, ‘If you want to take it outside, well, that’s fuckin plum-dandy wae me.’

He took a step back. ‘You don’t need to be like that!’

‘Like whit?’

He turned his head one way and the other, checking for backup. ‘You know whit I mean.’

‘See yeh later, Jim!’ one of my workmates shouted.

I held a hand up and waved. Out of the side of my mouth I snarled, ‘The other thing you’re forgetting is yer goin around calling our good, loyal, Council customers “poofs”. I don’t think management would be very happy wae that—it’s a derogatory term. I could see yeh getting a wee slap on the wrist. Maybe a wee demotion after the twenty odd years you’ve spent arse licking the bosses.’ ‘I grinned. ‘Slippery fuckin slope.’

 ‘I don’t think so,’ he stuck his index finger in his ear and wangled it about. I could see in his face, he did think so, and he was rattled ‘Are you one of them, then?’ he snarled.

I laughed. ‘Aye, if need be. I can come into work wearing twelve inch heals—and claim constructive dismissal. I’m gettin tae that age noo, where I really don’t gie a fuck whit I wear.’

He took a deep breath. ‘No about time yeh were goin?’

Checking I’d the right key for the barrel of the engine, I glanced back at him. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Not until I’ve had a personal apology.’ I pointed a finger at him. ‘I’m waiting.’

He turned away, his wee shoulders giving a fair imitation of swagger. ‘Fuck off,’ was his parting remark.

I shouted at the back of his head. ‘I’m watching yeh, yah cunt.’

The smile faded. I bumped the van through the dip at the gates. The delayed satisfaction of knowing Ugly Puggly had promised lamb for dinner, but had insisted on adding turmeric and ginger. He was usually right. But it seemed rather extravagant. We were brought up on mince and tatties—and that was still my favourite.

Dave was waiting in the lobby, prancing like a chicken. No welcoming smell of spices simmering, but of defeat. ‘Howard’s been lifted,’ he said and clenched his fists and looked ready to cry.

My head dropped. I just wanted to sit down and get my feet up. ‘Whit’s he done?’ I asked, sticking my hands in my pockets.

‘Nothing.’ He corrected himself. ‘Nothing, as far as I know.’

‘Fuck,’ if he’d done nothing it was worse than I thought. I followed him into the kitchen. Flicked the light switch. It didn’t work. And I noticed the kitchen was cold, when usually it was stifling.

‘That’s another thing,’ he raised an eyebrow. ‘The electricity doesn’t work’.

I poked at the blinds, leaned over and peeked out. The windmill was turning slowly in the wind. ‘Whit’s he done then?’

‘Dunno,’ he said. ‘But he phoned to say he was being detained against his will in Gartnavel.’

I chuckled.

He met my gaze and squeezed his lips together and his cheekbones jutted out. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘Och, nothin.’ I plugged the kettle and switched it on before remembering it wouldn’t work. ‘We’ll need to get a takeaway,’ I brushed past him and pulled open the fridge door. No light. ‘All that food ‘ll be wasted.’ I didn’t even bother opening the freezer drawers. My mind was jumping ahead. We needed camping stuff. Maybe something with batteries.

‘You’re no right in the head,’ he screeched.

I pat his arm. ‘You’re overreacting.’ Mops and buckets were on my mind. I wasn’t sure where he kept them, but my guess would be the bottom cupboard at the front door.   

‘I’m overreacting…’

I cut him off before he got into a big spiel. ‘Don’t worry, he likes Gartnavel.’

‘He likes Gartnavel?’

‘Aye, gies him time to think. He said they pretend to care for us and we pretend to get better. And if they let him out when he wanted to leave he wouldn’t mind staying there. You get aw yer meals.  But it’s aw changed fae the old days. Too much pressure on beds and throughput. Patients get kicked oot too early and bounce back again. The rebounders take up maist of the old-new beds. They just cannae cope wae outside. And he’s a rebounder.’

‘He’s not a rebounder?’ I heard the note of hesitation in his voice.

I shrugged. ‘Suit yersel. Fuck, I cannae get a shower.’ I raised my arm and sniffed my oxter. ‘Will I go to the chippy or get something wae curry?’

‘Curry,’ he said.

‘Chicken or beef?’

‘Chicken.’

I slapped his arm on the way out. ‘We’ll share the chips. And we’ll pop up and see Howard the morra.’

‘That’ll be good,’ he replied with downcast eyes.

‘Don’t worry, he’ll soon be back to his crazy old self.’   

‘How long do you think he’ll be in for?’

I scratched the back of my neck. ‘Fuck knows. They just make it up as they go along. One time he was in for over a year.’

He clutched his wrist, shivering. ‘Maybe I should go home.’

‘Aye, maybe you should.’ I sucked in my breath. ‘But best wait until ye had somethin hot and slimy in yeh.’ I waved my arm. ‘Sorry, I didnae mean it that way.’

He giggled and batted his eyelashes. ‘Maybe.’

We share dinner and I went up to bed early and slipped under the eiderdown in my boxer shorts. Lie flat and shut my eyes.  I hear the pad of his feet on the stairs. Tinkling of his pee in the toilet. Everything magnified by the stillness and darkness. Ugly Puggly’s mum’s perfume seeped out from a corner of the room.

I heard him pacing in his room. He pops his head around the door. ‘You awake?’