The Busconductor Hines (2 page)

Nobody's jumping, called McCulloch.

There's no question of yous chapping the table, said Ramsay. I mean God sake if

The table's chapped and it stays chapped, said Hines.

Quite right pardner. Reilly spoke while walking to join him: Me and you'll play the winners of this here tourny.

Ach away and drive your fucking buses, muttered a voice from the back of the room.

Aye, said somebody else, bloody scandal – no wonder you can never get a bloody hold of one when you want it. All off their work drunk so they are. The likes of them shouldnt bloody have a job in the first place.

Come on, said Ramsay to Hines and the others. Yous better just be going now.

The conductor had come over for a can of beer; he knocked the carrier bag as he did so and a few cans rolled. He knelt to retrieve them. He glanced up and said: What is it with they
auld yins at all? just in out the rain and what do we get, abuse, a lot of fucking abuse. No wonder they're going to start bumping them all off.

What was that? cried somebody.

Nice weather for ducks, said Reilly.

Your patter's rubbish, grinned Hines. He winked at the conductor: Give us a can.

He took the can and walked to the bench where Barry was and fixed his uniform hat more squarely on his head, then balanced the can of beer on it. Barry snored. Hines stepped back three paces as though checking its position. He returned to the others and aimed with the can he had been drinking from.

McCulloch laughed loudly.

I'll give ten to one he misses by a mile! called Reilly.

Done, said the conductor. Thirty quid; wait till I get my wages.

Lot of blooming weans, muttered an old man.

Ramsay sighed: Come on lads, enough's enough.

Enough isnt enough, replied McCulloch.

And Hines lowered the can of beer at once. He turned to Reilly: Did you hear that Willie? Driver McCulloch there, did you hear him? Did you know he knew that? I mean I never fucking . . . christ sake!

Reilly was smiling.

Colin had returned; his face was red. This is definitely out of order, he said quietly; come on, let's move.

Somebody whispering in the company, said Reilly.

That's barred, said Hines.

I'm no fucking whispering.

Naw, said McCulloch, you never whisper. On and on you go, the voice of doom.

The voice of doom! laughed Reilly.

Even fighting amongst themselves now, said one of the men at the table.

Ach away yous go, shouted another.

Here, what about this bet! The conductor had called; he walked to stand not too far from Barry.

Hines nodded; he raised the can.

Fuck you Rab: cried Colin, and he turned and strode to the door, and pulled it open and strode out, letting it bang behind him. The impact caused it to bounce open again, and rain blew inside.

A moment later McCulloch was muttering, I'm having it out with that bastard; right now, me and him, right fucking now. He left the room. The door was shut immediately by one of the pensioners who then sat down on the bench nearby; he sniffed and drew a half-smoked cigarette from behind his ear which he lighted from a match he had struck along the floor. Reilly had gone to help the conductor with Barry.

Hines began fixing the beer cans in the carrier bag. The man at the fire snorted and started talking to those nearest him. Hines walked to the door and held it open for the other three. Life is difficult, he said to Reilly.

Reilly nodded.

Outside they could see Colin Brown; he was quite a distance away, not running but walking quickly, heading towards the footbridge. McCulloch trotted after him.

Eh . . . you better manage Barry, said Hines to the conductor.

Aw you kidding?

Hines shrugged. Reilly had already begun running after the other two.

When McCulloch reached Colin he pushed him in the back. Their voices were audible above the noise from the rain and the river. Now they faced each other, Colin stepping backwards while the other was attempting to shove him on the chest. Reilly
arrived and he put his hand onto McCulloch's arm but got it knocked aside. No fight here, he was saying, you've been muckers too long.

Out my road.

You'll murder him man.

Will he fuck murder me, muttered Colin.

You ya bastard. McCulloch glared at him: You've been giving me a pain in the neck for months with your fucking moaning, on and on and on ya bastard.

Aye well you know what you can do about it.

McCulloch moved forwards and Reilly attempted to restrain him.

Handers! cried Hines. Who wants handers? He put the carrier bag down and held out his fists.

Fuck off Rab, said McCulloch.

Naw.

Nothing to do with yous two.

Aye it is.

I dont need your fucking help, said Colin.

Help ya cunt! what d'you mean help? we're wanting a fucking boot at you.

Just fuck off, said McCulloch.

Naw, me and my driver are wanting a go as well. Eh Willie, if we grab an arm each or something . . . toss him into the foaming briny: what d'you think?

A point for discussion. Reilly nodded. He had taken a crushed cigarette packet from his pocket . . . Let's have a smoke.

See that George! First time he's offered us a fag in 38 fucking year!

McCulloch looked at him.

Hines clapped his hands and sang, Singing aye aye yippee yippee aye, singing aye aye yippee yippee aye

McCulloch moved, he grabbed Colin by the lapels of the
uniform jacket and seemed to raise him from the ground, he cracked him on the bridge of the nose with the brow of his forehead, and let him go. Colin was on the ground and clutching at his face with both hands. For a moment McCulloch watched him, then he was off towards the footbridge, not looking back. Reilly bent to tug Colin's hands away. And Hines laid his hand on his shoulder and said, You're a silly bastard Colin.

He might need stitches, muttered Reilly.

Aye . . . The other conductor had arrived, by himself. Maybe we should take him to hospital.

I'm no going to any fucking hospital. Colin held his hands away now; the blood streaked down his face and onto his chin, and was staining his shirt.

You better, said Reilly.

Colin wiped his hands on the grass and the other two helped him to his feet. He said, Any of yous got a hankie?

Use your shirt, said Hines.

Shut up ya cunt, muttered Reilly.

Well no wonder I mean, christ, you seen the state of his uniform trousers? looks like he's fucking pished them. Company property too; tut tut right enough.

Think we should take him to the hospital? said the conductor.

Colin shook his head; he was holding his right hand beneath his nose, covering his mouth.

What d'you reckon Rab?

Hines shrugged. He took out his tin and withdrew a cigarette paper but it became saturated. He closed the tin and returned it to his pocket, then lifted the carrier bag of beer. Come on, let's go, no point getting soaked. Where's that cunt Barry? he said to the conductor.

The conductor pointed back at the pensioners' club.

Maybe he should go for a check up, said Reilly, just in case.

Hines glanced at Colin but Colin shook his head and he
began to walk in the direction of the footbridge. After a moment the conductor said, What do we do now?

Hines shrugged.

No think we should take him to the hospital?

Probably be best to, replied Reilly, he might need stitches.

I doubt it. But suit yourself, I've got to go to the nursery . . . Hines smiled. What about that fag ya cunt?

Reilly took out the packet.

Sandra. She was touching him on the arm and whispering that he should listen. A faint scratching noise. They lay still. Eventually he moved onto his side and stared out from the recess in the direction of the sink. It's been going on for ages, she murmured.

He nodded. He lifted the blankets, pushing his legs out and lowering himself feet first to the floor. The scratching stopped. Hines grinned. He said quietly, You should've banged the wall and got auld Donnelly to come through. He's the fucking expert!

Ssh.

They stayed silent for a while, until the scratching resumed. It came from the rubbish bin next to the sink. Padding across to there he lifted a flat-soled shoe from beneath the tallboy. The scratching had stopped. A time passed till it restarted. Now, said Hines and when Sandra switched on the bedlamp he sprang to the bin with the shoe poised. The mouse was jumping and going straight at him and he smashed the shoe down but missed. The bastard, where'd it go?

The cabinet or the tallboy Rab I'm not sure, my eyes werent right with the light.

Definitely thought I had it . . . He was kneeling to peer beneath the cabinet. Pointless. He glanced at her. Cant see a thing in the shadows. Jesus! He stood upright and lifting his left foot he flicked off a few crumbs. That bloody wean, everywhere he goes he's dropping stuff. I keep telling him as well. He shook his head and wiped his right foot. We've got to keep this place clean Sandra, hoovering and that, it's the only way to ward off these fuckers.

It isnt the only way at all. If you shored up all the cracks in the skirting board then they'd have no way to get in.

Christ sake Sandra he's going about with food in his hands all the time I mean he hardly ever eats at the fucking table; I'm always telling him.

The mouse was in the bin, not the floor.

Hines had knelt to see beneath the tallboy. When he rose he said, He's actually planking grub now; did I tell you? Dods of liver I found in below his fucking cot, I mean christ sake.

You told me.

Aye, well I mean where does he learn that kind of thing? the fucking nursery!

Come back to bed.

We'll need to stop him doing it.

Sandra was smiling.

Seriously but.

I know.

Aye, well . . . Hines grinned. Shut up. Before returning to bed he went to the lavatory.

She switched off the bedlamp.

Aw christ. I forgot to check the clock.

You're best not to.

Aye . . . he lay down, tugging up the blankets. What chance have I got of sleeping now anyway; I'll be listening for that bloody mouse all night. Morning I should say.

Sandra chuckled. Then she said, You're freezing.

No fucking wonder.

Give me your feet.

You hungry?

They laughed for several moments. Hines was lying on his back; he shifted his arm so that she could rest her head on his chest; he kissed her forehead. Sometimes you're better off no sleeping, just so's you can appreciate the rest. It's the same with being dead: I wouldnt mind it so much if you could wake up now and again just to savour it.

Rab! She rapped her knuckles against his shoulder.

Naw . . . he chuckled. I'll definitely see to that skirting board the morrow but. I'll buy a packet of polyfilla and borrow a trowel from auld Donnelly. Heh know what I think – if he stopped filling that crack in his front room wall the whole fucking building'd collapse and we'd wind up getting a semi-detached out in Knightswood.

Sandra snorted.

Moments later he said: I'm sorry.

It's okay.

Naw . . . I dont know what's up with me sometimes.

Her hand gripped and squeezed his arm. He made to say more but a movement from her and he said nothing. He sighed, and he kissed her forehead again. She moved closer in to him. He kissed her on the mouth, then broke away.

What's up.

Nothing. Hh; naw, I've went hard.

She raised herself to kiss him, moving her left leg between his. Dont be daft, she said.

He turned in to her, bringing both arms round her, and they
continued kissing until he broke away again. Honest I mean . . . it's okay Sandra, if you dont fancy it I mean I . . .

Ssh.

He clattered out from the close and along the pavement. Two streetcleaners were leaning on their brushes chatting. When he paused at the corner one of them called: A bus is just away there a minute ago.

Hines nodded. He started walking, then striding; soon he was trotting, the cashbag strap wrapped round his fist and the uniform hat wedged under his elbow. It took him twenty minutes to reach the garage. And the bus he was scheduled for duty on was pulling out from the exit as he entered the street. It halted. Reilly opened the side window and shook his head.