a colour
photograph covering the two pages and showed three men sexually involved with one woman. Tammas blushed, he continued to stare at it.
The man laughed: Look at his face!
Tammas breathed out; he inhaled on the cigarette, shaking his head; he moved away. That’ll do me, he said.
He’s had enough! grinned the man.
No fucking wonder! Tammas shook his head.
The youth was grinning and turning a page. Come here and see this yin!
Naw no me man . . . Tammas shook his head again. I’ll see you later.
The youth laughed.
Outside the room he nipped the cigarette and wedged it behind his ear. He returned back out into the rear yard and stood close in to the wall with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders
hunched. A man in a white coat appeared suddenly at a door farther down, and Tammas was walking along and back into the factory; a brush was lying on the floor just inside the doorway and glancing
quickly sideways he collected it and continued walking in the direction of the hoist.
The top floor of the part of the factory where Tammas normally worked was a small storeroom, nowadays used only for the cutting-section. One guy was in charge. Ralphie and
Tammas were up helping him shift old packing crates to make space for new stock. He had left them to enter up his written work for the afternoon, but eventually he opened the window of his office
and called to Tammas: Make the tea!
Tammas looked at him then at Ralphie who shrugged, and nodded in the direction of the sink. Thanks, he said. I’m a teaboy now.
Ralphie shrugged again and looked away.
During the break the three of them sat in the office in silence. Ralphie rose and he walked to a stack of parcels, began to read their labels. Eights by twelve, he said, I didnt know we still
used them?
The storeman nodded. We just keep a few in case.
Mmm . . . Ralphie had taken the pipe from his pocket and was opening his tobacco pouch. The storeman lighted a cigarette, returned the packet into the drawer in his desk. Did you hear? said
Ralphie. Auld McCreadie, he’s retired.
The storeman inhaled deeply on his cigarette.
Couple of weeks back.
Hh.
Aye, said Ralphie. He tapped the tobacco down inside the pipebowl and got his lighter out, and flicked on its large flame, sucking on the stem while lighting the tobacco; soon it was burning and
he put the lighter away and let out a big cloud of blue smoke; he returned the pipe to between his lips. He came to sit back down again.
Tammas stood up. Going to the toilet, he said, and he left the office. There was a toilet on this floor but he passed it by, heading to the back of the area where the fire-escape staircase was
situated. He walked down slowly, to the landing between floors, and he gazed out the window, out over the canal to the tenement buildings beyond. After a time he lowered himself to sit on his
heels, then he sat on the concrete floor, his back to the wall and legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles.
•••
The smell of cooking was quite strong when he entered the lobby. Closing the door he continued on past the kitchen to his own room. He changed his clothes then lay on the bed.
He got up and tugged over the curtains, lay down again, hands clasped beneath his head on the pillow. But he rose moments later.
Margaret was alone. She was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the
Evening Times.
He went to the oven and lifted the lid off one of the pots, sniffed loudly: Delicious. I’m starving Margaret! He turned the switch a little, so that the flame became higher.
Dont do that, you’ll just burn it.
Sorry, I was . . . he shrugged, I was only kidding.
She nodded, gazing at the newspaper. He sat on a chair across from her, with his back to the wall, facing away from her. He said: Did you manage up the hospital?
Yes. Yes, I did . . . Margaret stood up; she walked over to the oven, lifted the lid off the pot, glanced inside.
How was she? he asked, pulling the newspaper towards
photograph covering the two pages and showed three men sexually involved with one woman. Tammas blushed, he continued to stare at it.
The man laughed: Look at his face!
Tammas breathed out; he inhaled on the cigarette, shaking his head; he moved away. That’ll do me, he said.
He’s had enough! grinned the man.
No fucking wonder! Tammas shook his head.
The youth was grinning and turning a page. Come here and see this yin!
Naw no me man . . . Tammas shook his head again. I’ll see you later.
The youth laughed.
Outside the room he nipped the cigarette and wedged it behind his ear. He returned back out into the rear yard and stood close in to the wall with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders
hunched. A man in a white coat appeared suddenly at a door farther down, and Tammas was walking along and back into the factory; a brush was lying on the floor just inside the doorway and glancing
quickly sideways he collected it and continued walking in the direction of the hoist.
The top floor of the part of the factory where Tammas normally worked was a small storeroom, nowadays used only for the cutting-section. One guy was in charge. Ralphie and
Tammas were up helping him shift old packing crates to make space for new stock. He had left them to enter up his written work for the afternoon, but eventually he opened the window of his office
and called to Tammas: Make the tea!
Tammas looked at him then at Ralphie who shrugged, and nodded in the direction of the sink. Thanks, he said. I’m a teaboy now.
Ralphie shrugged again and looked away.
During the break the three of them sat in the office in silence. Ralphie rose and he walked to a stack of parcels, began to read their labels. Eights by twelve, he said, I didnt know we still
used them?
The storeman nodded. We just keep a few in case.
Mmm . . . Ralphie had taken the pipe from his pocket and was opening his tobacco pouch. The storeman lighted a cigarette, returned the packet into the drawer in his desk. Did you hear? said
Ralphie. Auld McCreadie, he’s retired.
The storeman inhaled deeply on his cigarette.
Couple of weeks back.
Hh.
Aye, said Ralphie. He tapped the tobacco down inside the pipebowl and got his lighter out, and flicked on its large flame, sucking on the stem while lighting the tobacco; soon it was burning and
he put the lighter away and let out a big cloud of blue smoke; he returned the pipe to between his lips. He came to sit back down again.
Tammas stood up. Going to the toilet, he said, and he left the office. There was a toilet on this floor but he passed it by, heading to the back of the area where the fire-escape staircase was
situated. He walked down slowly, to the landing between floors, and he gazed out the window, out over the canal to the tenement buildings beyond. After a time he lowered himself to sit on his
heels, then he sat on the concrete floor, his back to the wall and legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles.
•••
The smell of cooking was quite strong when he entered the lobby. Closing the door he continued on past the kitchen to his own room. He changed his clothes then lay on the bed.
He got up and tugged over the curtains, lay down again, hands clasped beneath his head on the pillow. But he rose moments later.
Margaret was alone. She was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the
Evening Times.
He went to the oven and lifted the lid off one of the pots, sniffed loudly: Delicious. I’m starving Margaret! He turned the switch a little, so that the flame became higher.
Dont do that, you’ll just burn it.
Sorry, I was . . . he shrugged, I was only kidding.
She nodded, gazing at the newspaper. He sat on a chair across from her, with his back to the wall, facing away from her. He said: Did you manage up the hospital?
Yes. Yes, I did . . . Margaret stood up; she walked over to the oven, lifted the lid off the pot, glanced inside.
How was she? he asked, pulling the newspaper towards
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