Naw Much of a Talker (4 page)

He says nuthin an’ jist nods.

An’ that wis it.

Ahd nivver hiv thought it wid be so quick. Noo ahv this joab. Noo ahv nae excuse any mair. If it goes pear-shaped this time, ahv nae cunt but masel tae blame.

So: aff tae Cobbles. Tae pay Regula her fifty back.

Then ah want tae go tae the pictures in Olten. Oan ma tod. Ah want peace like. Ahv done enough fuckin talkin.

Sutter senior, Uli’s faither, is some kinda procurator or summit. Nice enough guy, in his ain way like. Served oan the local cooncil in his day, or in some commission or
ither. He’s wan ae the auld guard anyhow, type ae guy who still believes in goodness. In evil, even. It’s aw wan at the end ae the day but eh.

Ah mean whit ah say: Sutter’s an okay guy. Least he dis summit, gets fuckin involved. Course, ah didnae think like that when we wur still boys still. Back then, aw ah noticed wis: the
Sutters hid a better place than oors an’ a far better motor. The Sutters hid a bright-rid Lancia GT an’ we’d a totally fuckin embarrassin Opel Kadett. Ivry cunt kid see Uli hid
mair than me. A leather baw. A pair ae they Adidas Rome trainers that cost sixty fuckin francs even in they days. An’ fitba boots wi studs, an’ spikes fur runnin in so ye didnae slip
oan the cinder track, cos ye wur nivver goney find a tartan track aroon here back in they days, wur ye. An’ Atomic skis wi Salomom bindings an’ ski stoppers when we still only hid they
stupit ski lashes. An’ so on, an’ so on. Aw ye heard in oor hoose wis: it wisnae the fuckin brand name that coonted, an’ whether ye wur guid at sport or wurnae depended oan you
yirsel an’ naw yir equipment, an’ the Sutters wur the Sutters an’ we wur us. An’ ye should be bloody grateful tae hiv skis at aw cos there wur other weans who hid absolutely
fuck-aw but wur happy anyhow. Ah kidda cried an’ screamed ivry time ahd tae listen tae ma maw an’ ma faither harpin oan like that. The same auld same auld.

It wis mibbe aw true but that didnae intrist me but, furfucksake. The wan thing that wis clear tae me wis: there ah wis, staunin in the centre circle like a fuckin eejit, the last ae the
mohicans, the last fuckin mohican fae total-eejit-land. Ah wis the last fuckin eejit still wearin canvas pumps. Totally-worn-oot, totally-ugly, totally-sad canvas pumps, designed fur total-eejits.
Back in fashion noo, mibbe, that wis nae guid tae me back then but. Fur that reason an’ that reason alane, ah got intae the habit ae takin charge. As long as ah wis boss, ah thought, nae cunt
wid hiv a go at ma fuckin fitwear.

Whit ahm tryin tae say is: ah cannae save Uli jist cos his faither’s oan the phone gi’in it: he’s worried aboot him. Me an’ Uli ur mates, that bit might be true awright.
Is true. At the same time but: it’s true an’ aw that fur years noo he’s been surroundin himsel wi cunts that gi’e me the fuckin creeps. Naw that ahm any diffrint fae Uli, or
better than him, ah reckon but ahv done a better joab ae findin friends. Even at ma fuckin lowest, ahv gi’en a bit ae thought tae who ahm fartin aroon wi. An’ noo ahm supposed tae make
sure Uli gets back oan the right path. Me, of aw people.

Ahm ah a social worker like? Ahm ah a priest? Ahm ah a doctor? Ahm ah the very person tae bring Uli fuckin Sutter back tae the path of virtue. Naw – ahm fuck-aw, that’s whit ah
am.

Ahm a stupid fuckin cunt intae the bargain. Cos last night, when ivrythin at ma place wis spinnin roon an’ roon, when moderation went oot the fuckin windae at ma private wine-tastin
an’ ah ended up wettin ma whistle wi an expensive Gran Reserva (thirty francs a bottle), didnt ah go an’ phone Regula at wan in the mornin, me as pissed as a sweet-smellin fart
an’ aw.

Cos that’s the kinda scatty thing ye dae when yir merry an’ think ivrythin’s fine an’ you yirsel ur mair than fine an’ the truth ae the matter is: fuck-aw’s
fine. Aw ae that wis clear tae me, ah jist wish ahd realised sooner.

So ah phones her. It rings a bit. Ah wait. Buddy answers.

Hello, who is it?

Me, Goalie. Can ye get Regula fur me?

Whit dae ye want? he asks.

Regula.

Aye, but whit dae ah want her fur. At this hour.

Ah want tae tell her masel.

Dae ah naw know whit time it is?

Aye, thanks. Ah dae. Ahv a pretty guid watch, still ma auld Tissot, fifteen-year-auld it must be noo, rock solid but, an automatic Seastar, a brilliant watch, really, Tissot Seastar, really
reliable, naw manufactured any mair, still a brilliant watch but. An’ that’s how he didnae need tae tell me whit time it wis. An’ anyhoo, ah wis callin tae discuss summit
important wi Regula.

Regula’s sleepin.

Wake her up then.

Who did ah think ah wis like?

Who did he think he wis like?

He wis warnin me.

Oh gosh. Dont fuckin scare me now. Ma shrink tellt me naw tae be gettin worked up, whit wi ma nerves an’ that.

Wis ah oan summit or whit, he wantit tae know.

Wis he ma maw ur whit, ah wantit tae know.

It went oan like that fur aboot anither five minutes, gettin louder an’ louder, till aw ae a sudden, in the backgroon, ye kid hear her wunnerful warm voice.

She said fur him tae gi’e her the phone. Mibbe it wis important.

An’ he wis like that jist: fur her tae shoosh an’ get back tae bed. An’ tae me he went: dont even think ae cawin his hoose at this hoor ae the night again or ahd be makin his
personal acquaintance.

Fur wance, ah didnt say nuthin. Then, eftir a pause, ah asked kid he finally get her tae the phone. Ahd summit tae tell her, summit urgent, summit that kidnae wait an’ needed tae be
discussed by intelligent people.

He said summit totally fuckin rude an’ hung up. The line went dead – that lang cauld sound. Then: nuthin at aw. That’s where we wur at. Wisnae a guid idea, that call, really
wisnae. Next week, ahm startin at the print shop but – that’s whit coonts now. They kid aw fuckin piss off, the hale lot oae them. Kid rot an’ fuckin decay – wi aw their
sleepin-pill dreams ae their ain hoose wi parquet floorin an’ a patio an’ a conservatory an’ ae a private pension an’ aw they concreted-over life plans.

If ahd at least still hid the cat at least. Before they stuck me in jail, ah hid wan, a tiger. It wis guid tae hiv an animal aroon like that noo an’ then. Then ah killt it. Hidnae the
heart tae pit it in a home. Ah kid get anither yin, aye. Widnae be the same but.

Oan ma first payday, ah’ll buy masel a decent coffee-maker, mibbe. Ahv awready got heartburn fae wan ae they stupit espresso pots ye screw thegither. Ye nivver know is it aw goney squirt
at the ceilin or, worse still, in yir face.

Ah need tae git oot. It’s pissin it doon an’ it’s cauld an’ dork. Naw that it matters. Ah kin take ma coat. Ahv a guid coat, ye can traipse aroon fur
hoors in the rain wi it. Plus: it still looks the part. Dork blue. Expensive material.

When me an’ Uli wur still at school, we used tae play fur fuckin days in the rain. He wis Netzer an’ ah wis Johann Cruyff. Some folk think ah wis aye in goal cos ivrywan caws me
Goalie. That’s wrang but. Ma name his nowt tae dae wi the position ae goalie. The wans that wur guid fur fuck-aw else wur aye in goal. Ah scored mair goals oan that crappy surface than aw the
ithers pit thegither. It wisnae actually a fitba pitch, mair a patch ae fuckin grass between Reitplatz an’ the main street. That wis as much as oor bit ae town hid tae offer. It wis guid
enough fur us but. Back then, ivrythin wis guid enough. If things ur guid, ivrythin’s guid enough. An’ ah hid it guid as a nipper, really guid, even if ah didnae know it at the
time.

Nae idea where ah shid go. Ah jist felt the need tae get oot there.

Ah walk in the direction ae Schoren. Mibbe Uli’ll be at hame an’ pit oan a cuppa or whitivver. It’s possible anyhoo. We kid then talk a bit aboot back then, when we wur kids
an’ ivrythin wis great. Nearly ivrythin anyhoo. We kid talk aboot Etter, fur instance, who – when we played fitba – wis aye claimin he wis fouled an’ wantin a penalty.
Course, it’s a penalty! For-fuckin-get it. Shut yir fuckin gob, Etter! In yir fuckin dreams, Etter boy. That wis nivver a foul! Naw in a million years. Ah hardly fuckin touched ye. An’
him doon on the groon, wan haun oan his shin, the ither in the air: Penalty, that’s a penalty, ref! Us jist playin oan but.

Uli stays in the groon-flair flat next-door tae a farm. Naw bad. Bit small mibbe, but it’s cheap but. An auld dear lives above him who cannae hear any mair. Which is
right an’ handy when it comes tae loud music an’ that. Right at this minute but, it’s naw handy at aw. She’s lookin at me fae where she’s staunin at the open windae
an’ unnerstaunin fuck aw ae whit ahm sayin. Ah point tae the door oan the groon flair. She says summit aboot the weather. Dis she know where he is an’ when he might be back? Did she see
him headin oot mibbe?

Aye, she says, aw day yistirday an’ yet he said it wis goney be nice yistirday an’ theday.

Who? Who said?

That’s whit ah mean, eh, they weather guys ur gettin it aw wrang mair an’ mair oftener. Ah well, we’ll jist hiv tae take whitivver comes. That’s the wey it is, eh, whit
else ye supposed tae dae? Even if we made it oorsels, it widnae be any better, the weather.

An’ Uli, the guy below ye?

Know summit? Ah dont believe a word they say any mair.

Forget it, Goalie, ah tell masel. Dont git worked up. Ye’ll be like this auld dear yirsel wan day mibbe. Probably ye’ll naw but. You’ll drap deid first.

So ah head doon intae the village tae borrow a few videos. Or mibbe naw, nae videos, they’re jist tae kill time, yir better gettin books. Books last longer an’ yir heid disnae feel
so empty eftirwards, when yir done readin them. If they wur hawfway decent, that is, at least.

It wid be great tae hiv a guid natter wi Uli aboot the auld days. Wonder whit Etter’s daein these days? Guy done teacher trainin, ah think, then actually became a fuckin teacher. Started
tae teach, soon as he finished his trainin, in some village. That’s aw ah know. Nae doot he’s heid ae department or summit noo. Bit ae an eager beaver, Etter. Aye wis. Bit ae a fuckin
cry baby an’ aw – wi his stupit fuckin penalties.

That’s a clear-cut penalty, ref!

Shut the fuck up, Etter. That wis nivver a penalty. Naw in a million years, ya monkey.

If he got tae pick the players, he nivver picked me first. Probably wantit tae show me jist ah wisnae the best in his eyes.

An’ wee Balsiger? Wonder whit he dis these days. Guy who, when they wur pickin teams, wis aye left tae last. Then some cunt wid go: yous kin hiv him.

Naw, yous take him, we dont need him.

Naw, yous take him, we’re a man up as it is.

Disnae matter, yous kin hiv him.

Dae whit yis want.

Nae cunt ivver wantit wee Balsiger. Wan team aye ended up takin him but. Fucksake – guid times, they wur! We’ll nivver get days like that back again.

Ah dont know why masel, the only guy ye can still talk tae seriously aboot they times is Uli but. Aw the others ur eether long since gone or cannae mind any mair. Cos they’ve nae memory,
they say. Cos the hale bastarn world his nae memory any mair. Success an’ memory dont go thegither. An’ nae cunt wants tae remember anythin cos aw they optimists an’ visionaries
an’ the gorgeous chicks on TV an’ aw they stupit agony uncles in magazines, an’ aw ae them pit thegither ur only ivver gi’in it: ye hiv tae look forward. Ye break yir leg.
Disnae matter, look forward jist. Ye lose yir joab. Disnae matter, look forward jist. Ye go bust. Disnae matter, look forward jist. Yiv got cancer. Look forward jist!

Sorry, where exactly? Where is it yiv tae look when ye realise yir heidin straight fur the bottom? Gi’e us peace wi aw that nonsense. If behind me looks better than up aheid, ahd rather
look back.

If the rain disnae stop soon, ah’ll be stayin in here till wan ae the librarians or – fur aw ah care – the jannie chucks me oot. Ah’ll be tellin him tae call me a taxi
first but.

That normally impresses these guys – takin a taxi – cos nae cunt takes a taxi here unless he cannae walk aw ae a sudden. So if someone like me takes wan, tae get hame fae the
library, it gi’es them summit tae gossip aboot.

First day at ma new work wisnae so bad. Deliverin stuff. Printed stuff. Helpin oot in the storeroom in between. Quite relaxed fur the maist part. If it’s like that ivry
day, ah’ll manage. Ah mean: a joab’s a joab, intit. That’s only logical. Ahv worked in places but where it wis clear wi’in the first hoor it wisnae goney happen. Naw here
but. Here’s whit ye’d caw okay.

Ah should be happy, basically. Ahv got peace an’ quiet. An’ ahv got ma joab an’ that. Jist like ah wantit. Nearly.

So: grab a wash, cook summit decent, then it’s aff doon tae Cobbles tae apologise tae Regula fur the embarrassin fuckin phone call at wan in the mornin.

Regula’s lookin incredible theday. She always dis. Theday’s summit special but. Black jeans, black V-neck pullover, the sleeves rolled up so ye can see her lower airms, nice, wiry,
they tense up when she’s carryin a tray. Her light broon hair, pit back behind her ears. An’ her funny eyes like the eyes ae that Russian ice-skater whose name’ll come back tae
me, mibbe. Mibbe it wisnae a Russian, mibbe it wis an East German. Incredible eyes, anyhoo.

Sorry, Regula, ah wis a bit merry. Plus, ma heid wis spinnin.

Nae worries, Goalie, there’s nae need tae apologise. Buddy wis still awake anyhow.

Ah woke ye but an’ ah didnae mean tae, honest.

Like ah say, Goalie, it disnae matter. Nae harm done.

Buddy wis ragin but.

Ye’ll need tae talk tae him aboot that. Ah wisnae. Ahm naw anyhow.

Honest?

Honest.

Yir a guid person, Regula.

An’ you’re a total patter-merchant.

Ah mean it, Regi. Yir faur too guid fur that Buddy.

Stop it, Goalie.

Kin ye bring me a wee glass ae Navarra when yiv got a minute? Ye’d make me a happy man.

Sure ah will. An’ this time ah willnae ask if yiv the money fur it.

Jist as well. Ahv a joab now.

Ah know, ah heard awready. Pesche seen ye drivin the delivery van.

Aw right, so Pesche seen me drivin. Very observant, Pesche. Respect.