Poking Seaweed with a Stick and Running Away from the Smell (5 page)

12
Uncle Chick and his flaking skin

Nanny and Grampa's son Chick had bad asthma and eczema too. And even when they were grown-up men, Chick and Bruce still lived at home with Nanny and Grampa. Chick used to work in the projection booth at The Roxy Cinema on the Glasgow Road and it was his job to make sure the films ran on time and there were no jumpy bits when he changed a reel. Mum said Chick had changed the reel that night my da took her to The Roxy to see
Psycho
on their first date.

We stayed at Nanny and Grampa's one Saturday night 'cause my da had taken Mum out for a fish supper and an advocaat and lemonade at The Welcome Inn at Ferniegair. Nanny had spoiled us with bags of sweeties from Lennox's, the sweetie shop at Bridgeton Cross, and later in the night she said the ice-cream van would be coming around too. I strained my ears to see if I could hear the chimes and as I strained I thought about what ice-cream I was going to have then remembered one night when Bruce had just got back from the Swiss Alps and he went to the ice-cream van and got us an ice-cream cone with a chocolate Flake stuck in it. Bruce said that was called a ‘99' and he said he'd seen 99s in the ice-cream vans in the Swiss Alps. When we tasted them that night they tasted that good we wished Bruce would go away to the Swiss Alps more often. Next time Bruce was getting ready to leave for the Alps I asked him to bring me back a pair of lederhosen just like the ones I'd seen the family Von Trapp wear in
The Sound of Music
. And sure enough, when Bruce got to the Alps he searched and searched in all the shops but there were no lederhosen to be found. So he sent me a postcard and on it he wrote:
Kein Lederhosen hier
. I didn't know what that meant but when he came back without the lederhosen, I knew what he had been trying to say.

Anyway that Sunday morning after we stayed at Nanny's me, Izzy and Andrew got ourselves out of bed and put on our Sunday best. Me and Izzy wore our pink nylon dresses with the daisies around the bottom and the pearly buttons up the front and Izzy brushed her hair and tied it back and then she brushed mine too. Then we helped Andrew put on his grey trousers and his Fair Isle tank top that Nanny had got him from Jessie's stall at the market. Nanny made us two fried eggs each on toast and after our fried eggs Grampa said he would take us for a walk to Greenhall and buy us a choc-ice when we got there. When we were ready to go I tried to find Grampa to tell him it was time to get moving and from the kitchen I could see him out the back in his greenhouse watering his lemon-scented geraniums. I called out to him, ‘Come on Grampa, are you ready?' and he held his hand up and showed me he was still smoking his Embassy Regal and I knew that meant he'd be out when he'd finished it and so I ran back to Izzy and Andrew and the three of us stood in the driveway at the front door and I kicked a stone around while we waited for Grampa to finish his smoke.

Nanny came to the front door, told us to enjoy our walk and handed Izzy Grampa's camera 'cause he wanted to take some pictures of the blue tits at Greenhall. Then Nanny said cheerio and climbed the stairs to the bedrooms to make the beds and that's when we heard her calling out Chick's name and Chick didn't answer. Then she called his name again and still he didn't answer. Nanny's voice got more frantic by the minute then we heard her try to open the door to Chick's bedroom and the blood-curdling scream she let out before falling to the floor.

I ran through the house and out the back to Grampa in his greenhouse, shouting for him to come quick, that Nanny was screaming, and Grampa raced in from the greenhouse and into the house and up those stairs three at a time. I followed him halfway up and when he got to Chick's bedroom he had to force the door open, and that's when he discovered Chick's dead body lying behind the door. Grampa could see that there was nothing to do 'cause Chick's face was already blue but Grampa knelt down beside him and tried to find a pulse though there was none to be found. Grampa reached out for Nanny and pulled her in close to him and Nanny was screaming and asking God, Why? Why? Why? Grampa tried to calm her as he yelled out for Bruce to run next door to Noreen's at number seven to use her phone to get an ambulance, 'cause Noreen was the only one in the street with the phone in. And then the pain got too much for Grampa too and that's when his own tears came and he pulled Chick's heavy body onto his lap and cradled him in his arms close to his heart, as if he was rocking him to sleep, and Nanny put her arms around Chick too and the three of them stayed like that forever. Then Nanny kissed Chick on the forehead and she cried like any one of you would cry if it was one of your own.

And when I saw that I ran back down the stairs and out into the driveway and told Izzy and Andrew that something was wrong, that Chick's face was blue and he was lying in Nanny and Grampa's arms and that's when I said we should all run home to Mum. The three of us took off down Maitland Avenue and we didn't stop until we were halfway down Calder Street when Bruce pulled up beside us in his white Volkswagen Beetle, bundled us into the car and drove us the rest of the way home.

When we got there we raced into the house and Mum was standing with two rashers of streaky bacon in her hand and two fried eggs in the pan for my da's breakfast. Bruce told her straightaway that Chick was dead and Mum just stared at Bruce like she couldn't believe what she was hearing, then Bruce repeated it softly for her. That's when Mum dropped the two rashers of bacon onto the cold stone floor and fell back against the wall and slid down it until she was sitting on the cold stone floor herself. Bruce held me and Izzy by the hand and Andrew ran to Mum and Mum took him in her arms and started to sob for her brother Chick. She looked up at Bruce and she tried to be strong and keep the tears in, and in a half whisper she said to Bruce, ‘Are you sure?' and Bruce said softly, ‘Aye, hen, I'm sure.'

Mum didn't need to ask what had killed Chick. She thought of him taking his last breath in his bedroom that Sunday morning by himself then broke down and sobbed all the more and the four of us just stood there in the kitchen and looked at Mum and the two rashers of bacon on the cold stone floor and nobody knew what to say.

Years after Chick died, I'd think about him. In my mind's eye I can still see him in Nanny's kitchen with a towel over his head inhaling the steam from a bowl of hot water with eucalyptus oil in it, trying to get a breath. And I can see him on Nanny's red tartan couch in front of the gas fire with his trouser legs rolled up to his knees, scratching the eczema on his shins until they bleed and the white flakes of dead skin are falling in a pile at his feet.

And now as I sit on my own couch in my living room in Sydney I sometimes roll up the legs of my trousers and scratch the eczema on my own shins and the soft white skin comes away in my fingernails and white flakes of dead skin fall in a pile at my feet too. And I think about Chick.

13
Christmas Day was always the worst

'Cause the pubs were shut all day it was the only day of the year that my da stayed home and it was the only day of the year we had to sit at the table with him and eat our dinner. Mum used to go and pick up Auntie Annie so she could come and have her Christmas dinner at our house, and Nanny, Grampa and Bruce would come too. And all of us wished the pubs would stay open all day long so we didn't have to sit at the same table as my da and every one of us wished it was over before it had even begun.

My da would start drinking early on Christmas morning and he'd sit in his leather chair by the gas fire with his whisky glass in his hand and he'd have that faraway look in his eye he always had when he was drinking. When we gave him his present he'd reluctantly put his whisky glass down, take the present in his hands, feel it without opening it and then say something along the lines of ‘another fuckin' jumper'. Then he'd throw the present back under the tree unopened.

Every Christmas was the same. Nervously we'd watch him out of the corners of our eyes as we went about the preparations for the dinner and we'd all have knots in our stomachs while we waited to see how he was going to behave that year. Once me and Andrew imagined what it would be like if Davey the milkman was our da and Andrew said he was sure Davey would like the presents we got him every year, well, at least he knew that Davey would open them. Then we imagined what kind of presents Davey would get us for Christmas. I said he'd probably get Andrew a soap on a rope from Marks & Spencer's and that he'd probably get me and Izzy talcum powder and bubble bath from the House Of Fraser. Andrew said on Christmas morning Davey would wish us a merry Christmas and put on a Perry Como LP and we'd all sing and dance together in the good room and Mum would open the red crushed-velvet curtains and the brightness of the snow outside would rush in and dazzle our eyes and Davey wouldn't have to deliver the milk on Christmas Day, 'cause nobody's da delivers milk on Christmas Day.

Mum always got up early on Christmas morning to start preparing the dinner; we used to have brilliant dinners on Christmas Day. We always had two kinds of soup. Nanny would make the tomato, mince and rice soup and Mum would make the cock-a-leekie, and then we'd have boiled Brussel sprouts and carrots and potatoes mashed with a knob of real butter. One year, when Bruce came back from skiing in Italy, he brought back two bottles of Mateus Rosé and something called broccoli and he said that that's all they eat in Italy and I said what about spaghetti bolognese and pizzas and Bruce said, ‘Aye, all right, they eat spaghetti bolognese and pizzas too.'

We always got a fresh turkey from Bobby's Chicken Shop on the Glasgow Road and every Christmas Mum bought a packet of Saxa turkey stuffing with sage, ‘Well, it is Christmas after all,' and she'd fill the inside of the turkey with the stuffing and sometimes she'd put sausage meat inside the turkey too. Then she'd put the bird in the oven with a knob of real butter on top and four hours later, when she brought it back out, it would be golden and crispy and we reckoned Mum made the best turkey in any house in the whole of the Glasgow Road.

One year my da said he wanted beef with string for his Christmas dinner. Mum said, ‘Have you seen the price of it? And here's me still the balance of the turkey to pay.' And then my da said he didn't ask for much in life and it's a bad day when a man can't get beef with string when he has a notion for it. So Mum went to Peter Craig's, the butcher on the Glasgow Road, and she bought a joint of roast beef tied up with string and she roasted it in the oven for my da. That was the same year my da said all he wanted for Christmas was a pair of fur-lined boots and it's a bad day when a man can't get a pair of fur-lined boots when he has a notion for them. So Mum went out that same day and bought him a pair with the money she'd saved from the housekeeping and the night before Christmas she wrapped them up in a sheet of three-wise-men wrapping paper and put them under the tree. Next morning when my da got out of bed, Mum handed him his present and all of us were looking forward to seeing my da's face light up when he opened it. And after all that he just felt the parcel, said, ‘pair of fuckin' fur-lined boots' and threw the present back under the tree unopened.

The best part about Christmas was the pudding. We always had two kinds of pudding. Bruce brought a Black Forest gateau and Mum would buy pouring cream to pour all over it and before she poured it she'd say, ‘Well, it is Christmas after all.' And as if that wasn't brilliant enough, Mum used to make trifle and she put two cans of diced peaches in it and strawberry jelly and cold custard then topped it with two tubs of whipped cream from Lightbody's, the baker on the Glasgow Road. When it came time to have the pudding I could never decide which one to have first so I always had the two kinds of pudding on my plate at the same time and Mum used to say my eyes were bigger than my belly and sometimes she was right.

One year Mum invited one of Nanny's pals to come and join us for Christmas dinner and her name was Maria. She was an art teacher at The Church of Christ High School and she was big and fat and Mum felt sorry for her 'cause she lived by herself with her fourteen cats and five dogs and Mum said nobody should have to be by themselves on Christmas Day. When Maria arrived that Christmas Day she couldn't believe her eyes when she saw the two soups, the turkey, the Brussel sprouts and the homemade trifle. Of course we knew my da wouldn't be happy about Maria coming for dinner 'cause she was big and fat and when I looked at my da out the corner of my eye he looked like a pot of milk about to boil over and all of us were waiting for the moment when his rage would escape and that's when I went under the table and thought about Davey the milkman again.

And then Mum shouted, ‘Right, you lot, let's get started!' and I raced out from under the table. While I had been under there Mum had set the table and it looked pure brilliant. She'd put on the good white tablecloth with the blue embroidered forget-me-nots in the corners and the creases were still in it from when it was folded and put away the Christmas before. And on top of the good white table cloth she'd put an arrangement she'd made from red plastic poinsettias and green plastic holly, and she put skinny red candles in the middle of it like the skinny red candles you get on the front of Christmas cards sometimes. She'd set the table with two knives, two forks and two spoons for each of us and we had side plates and napkins folded up all fancy and sitting in the wine glasses. I sat next to Nanny and Grampa at the far end of the table away from my da and those eyes of his and all of us started with some soup. I had Nanny's tomato, rice and mince soup 'cause that's my very favourite and then I had some golden turkey, two Brussel sprouts and mashed potatoes and then Bruce told me I had to have some of the broccoli 'cause it would put hairs on my chest. I told him I didn't want hairs on my chest and if he liked it so much why didn't he eat it himself and that's when he laughed and uncorked the Mateus Rosé and poured everybody a glass.

My da didn't touch Bruce's wine, just sat at the head of the table and drank his whisky and ate his soup. He preferred Mum's cock-a-leekie to Nanny's tomato, mince and rice, and then he had some turkey and a Brussel sprout and all the while he was quiet and his eyes never left his plate and all of us were nervous, wondering what he was going to say this year and who was getting it first.

Just as Maria put the final mouthful of turkey into her mouth and lay her fork on the table my da told her to have some fuckin' Black Forest gateau. That's when all of our stomachs sank 'cause we knew that this was the start of it. Maria didn't really know where to look and then my da stood up and walked around to her place at the table and he took the soup ladle from the tomato, mince and rice soup and stuck it into the Black Forest gateau that Bruce had brought and then he splattered a huge ladle full of it onto Maria's plate. And I wanted to run under the table again and think about Davey the milkman but I didn't dare move and instead I stayed in my chair next to Nanny and Grampa and stared at the green Brussel sprout I'd left on my plate and didn't look up in case I was next.

Maria looked at my da and said, ‘Thanks, Joe, but ­actually I don't eat cake. I don't like sweet food.' And my da said, ‘How come you're such a big fat cow then?' and walked slowly away from the table and back to his leather chair. And nobody could look at Maria 'cause all of us were ashamed. Mind you, what my da had said was true, Maria was big and fat, but nobody deserves to be spoken to like that on Christmas Day. That's when Mum jumped up and started to clear the dishes away and everybody at the table helped and one by one we all left the dinner table and made our way to the kitchen with plates and bowls and glasses and cutlery and the nine of us ended up in the kitchen washing and drying dishes and wrapping up left-over turkey in tinfoil and talking about the turkey curry Mum would make on Boxing Day. Bruce poured Auntie Annie another glass of Mateus Rosé and then she lifted her skirt and showed us her pink bloomers. And my da sat by himself in his leather chair by the gas fire drinking his whisky and staring into space with that faraway look in those eyes of his.

While we washed and dried we chatted and laughed and the dishes were done in jig time, then Auntie Annie said we should open up the Harvey's Bristol Cream and Nanny went to her bag and brought out the sherry glasses she'd brought from her china cabinet at home and Auntie Annie poured the sherries and me, Izzy and Andrew were allowed one too, well it was Christmas after all. As I sipped on mine I looked through the dimpled glass door of the kitchen and I saw that my da was fast asleep in his leather chair by the gas fire. I took another sip of my Harvey's Bristol Cream, closed my eyes and thanked God it was over for another year.