room. Back down the lobby he clicked open the outside door, closing it gently
behind him.
The street and pavement were damp but the sky was clear and it was a mild morning. Along at the newsagent’s shop the man was sorting through his big bundles of Sunday newspapers, a
cigarette burning in the corner of his mouth and his eyelids blinking to avoid the smoke. He nodded at Tammas and gave him his ordered
Sunday Mail
without a word.
At the bus stop two men in donkey jackets and denims stood talking together, behind them queued a woman and two children who were clutching thin religious books. A block further on he paused to
strike a match, cupping the flame in both hands, the newspaper beneath his right oxter. When he had the cigarette going he flicked the match into the gutter then opened the newspaper at the back
pages, he read while strolling. He came to where a plot of grass had been planted in a gapsite; an arc-shaped iron railing surrounded it, and in an inshot a bench had been fixed into a concrete
slab. He sat down there for a while.
A bus passed, travelling slowly. Tammas looked after it, the newspaper now lying folded on his lap. From behind his ear he brought the half smoked cigarette and got it alight before rising and
continuing on.
Where he was now walking the buildings consisted mainly of warehouses and small factories with occasional TO LET signs pasted on their windows. Very few vehicles were on the roads. He turned off
and along, parallel to the river. From where he was it could be seen stretching only as far as Govan. Nearby stood an enormous crane with what looked to be a very large shed on one end.
The rain had started falling by the time he entered the entrance to the pedestrian tunnel. The floor was white with bird shit. Condensation seeped down the walls and roofing and there was a
continuous gurgling noise coming from somewhere, also a roaring noise that increased the further downstairs he stepped, until it seemed to block out all other sound.
On the other side of the river he sheltered in the entrance until the rain lessened, then headed along the cobbled dock road. The area to the left was waste ground, where tenement buildings had
been recently demolished; here and there foundation work for new buildings seemed to be in progress. To the right of the pavement he was on was a high wall which continued for about a mile. When he
reached its other end he took his newspaper back out, glancing at it as he went.
He only had one cigarette left. He lighted it and crushed the packet and dropped it to the ground, but kicked at it just before it landed. Then he brought the box of matches out his jerkin
pocket again. It was nearly full. Striking one he thrust it in beside the rest and watched as it all burst into flames, and he bent and placed it on the pavement. Several paces on he turned to look
back; the small fire was still burning.
A man was staring at him from a bus stop on the other side of the road.
Half an hour later he was at Linthouse, entering the pedestrian tunnel there; a further forty or so minutes and he had arrived at Rab’s place in Scotstoun. His younger brother Alec opened
the door, dressed in pyjamas and rubbing his eyes. Tammas, he said.
Is Rab up?
He’s no in.
No in?
Naw, he never came back last night. Alec yawned: I thought he was with you and Donnie and them.
Tammas nodded.
How, was he no?
Eh I’m no sure, I never went out last night.
Did you no?
Naw.
Alec yawned again. He’ll probably be back soon anyway. Come on in and wait if you want. Maw and da are still in bed. I’ll be making a bit of toast.
Eh . . . ach naw Alec I’ll no bother – just tell him I came.
Aye. Anything else?
Naw.
•••
Margaret was standing in the doorway, all set to leave for work; she was frowning.
What’s up? he said, resting on his elbows.
What’s up! I thought you were away long ago!
He nodded and lay back down, pulling the blankets to his chin. I slept in, he
behind him.
The street and pavement were damp but the sky was clear and it was a mild morning. Along at the newsagent’s shop the man was sorting through his big bundles of Sunday newspapers, a
cigarette burning in the corner of his mouth and his eyelids blinking to avoid the smoke. He nodded at Tammas and gave him his ordered
Sunday Mail
without a word.
At the bus stop two men in donkey jackets and denims stood talking together, behind them queued a woman and two children who were clutching thin religious books. A block further on he paused to
strike a match, cupping the flame in both hands, the newspaper beneath his right oxter. When he had the cigarette going he flicked the match into the gutter then opened the newspaper at the back
pages, he read while strolling. He came to where a plot of grass had been planted in a gapsite; an arc-shaped iron railing surrounded it, and in an inshot a bench had been fixed into a concrete
slab. He sat down there for a while.
A bus passed, travelling slowly. Tammas looked after it, the newspaper now lying folded on his lap. From behind his ear he brought the half smoked cigarette and got it alight before rising and
continuing on.
Where he was now walking the buildings consisted mainly of warehouses and small factories with occasional TO LET signs pasted on their windows. Very few vehicles were on the roads. He turned off
and along, parallel to the river. From where he was it could be seen stretching only as far as Govan. Nearby stood an enormous crane with what looked to be a very large shed on one end.
The rain had started falling by the time he entered the entrance to the pedestrian tunnel. The floor was white with bird shit. Condensation seeped down the walls and roofing and there was a
continuous gurgling noise coming from somewhere, also a roaring noise that increased the further downstairs he stepped, until it seemed to block out all other sound.
On the other side of the river he sheltered in the entrance until the rain lessened, then headed along the cobbled dock road. The area to the left was waste ground, where tenement buildings had
been recently demolished; here and there foundation work for new buildings seemed to be in progress. To the right of the pavement he was on was a high wall which continued for about a mile. When he
reached its other end he took his newspaper back out, glancing at it as he went.
He only had one cigarette left. He lighted it and crushed the packet and dropped it to the ground, but kicked at it just before it landed. Then he brought the box of matches out his jerkin
pocket again. It was nearly full. Striking one he thrust it in beside the rest and watched as it all burst into flames, and he bent and placed it on the pavement. Several paces on he turned to look
back; the small fire was still burning.
A man was staring at him from a bus stop on the other side of the road.
Half an hour later he was at Linthouse, entering the pedestrian tunnel there; a further forty or so minutes and he had arrived at Rab’s place in Scotstoun. His younger brother Alec opened
the door, dressed in pyjamas and rubbing his eyes. Tammas, he said.
Is Rab up?
He’s no in.
No in?
Naw, he never came back last night. Alec yawned: I thought he was with you and Donnie and them.
Tammas nodded.
How, was he no?
Eh I’m no sure, I never went out last night.
Did you no?
Naw.
Alec yawned again. He’ll probably be back soon anyway. Come on in and wait if you want. Maw and da are still in bed. I’ll be making a bit of toast.
Eh . . . ach naw Alec I’ll no bother – just tell him I came.
Aye. Anything else?
Naw.
•••
Margaret was standing in the doorway, all set to leave for work; she was frowning.
What’s up? he said, resting on his elbows.
What’s up! I thought you were away long ago!
He nodded and lay back down, pulling the blankets to his chin. I slept in, he
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