The Busconductor Hines by James Kelman

bring them. We should’ve dumped them out the road somewhere.
    Aye, said McCulloch, and we could’ve nicked into the bar and had a game of dominoes.
    Colin snorted. Chauvinist bastards.
    Just wait till you’re married, said Reilly with a grin. Then you can start telling us!
    Heh that reminds me . . . Stewart leaned forwards. I’m on backshift last week, second run of the day – picking up the workers and that
    Hines had risen. Sorry I’ve got to miss this. Take notes Willie, I’ll get the punchline when I get back.
    Something up with the way I talk? Stewart smiled.
    Naw, said McCulloch, just ignore the cunt – he’ll go away.
    Hines grinned, he moved his chair back to leave.
    Approaching 10.30 p.m. the waitress cleared the table of the empties while the round was being taken by McCulloch; and he was advising everybody to order doubles in case they couldnt get one later. For the past half hour members of the audience had been singing along with the duo. Hines unbuttoned the top of his shirt and stuffed the tie into his inside jacket pocket. Reilly was pointing to him. Aye, he said, I’m no kidding you!
    What’s he fucking on about? said Hines.
    You ya cunt ye – turning it on at the football; when we used to have a team. Aye George, you want to have been in the garage then.
    The driver named Donnie was looking at Hines then he cried: Now I fucking know you! I’ve been sitting here all night wondering where it was – I forgot yous used to have a team. Aye! He snorted. About six years ago, we beat yous 5–0. You were playing.
    Me! What a load of keech.
    Queen’s Park it was, said Donnie to the others. Right in the middle of a fucking snowstorm.
    You’ve got the wrong man. I was injured in those days.
    McCulloch and Colin were hooting along with Reilly.
    You’re a liar, said Donnie. You were playing in the forward line.
    Rubbish.
    Eh? roared Colin. To think of all the patter we’ve had to take off the cunt!
    Galloping down the wing. That’s it, I knew I knew you, cried Donnie.
    I cant mind of galloping down any wings! Anyhow Reilly, if I was there you must’ve been there.
    Not guilty. No six years ago I wasnt.
    Aye, laughed Donnie, no wonder your garage chucked it!
    The laughter was cut short by urgings from the next table. A general hush throughout the lounge while the entertainers announced names and dedications for those in the audience with particular cause for celebration. After a bout of applause for one the accordionist held up his arm then continued: And I want to say a special good evening to a couple spending their . . . he paused to glance at the bit of paper in his hand; to a couple spending their 20th wedding anniversary with us. It’s no very often you come upon that these days! He glanced at the paper again. Mr and Mrs Reilly – Willie and Isobel. On your feet and give us a wave now; dont be shy!
    The guitarist was strumming Happy Anniversary and several in the audience were humming the melody with him. Suddenly McCulloch nudged Reilly: It’s you man. Heh! Here’s one of them here! he shouted.
    Cheers and scattered applause.
    20 years married by christ you wouldnt credit it! Hines shook his head.
    Reilly stared at him. Then he glanced to the other table where Colin’s fiancée was laughing while attempting to hoist Isobel’shand above her head. Isobel resisted; her face was bright red. Sandra was studying the table. From the raised platform the accordionist was announcing something more in connection with this coming song, that it was especially for all those whose name had been mentioned. The song began. One of the women was speaking to Isobel now and Sandra was sitting there listening though she was still looking at the table.
    Reilly’s face was red; he sipped at his beer; he glanced at Hines and shook his head.
    Convinced it was me eh!
    Course it was you: laughed McCulloch.
    Aw that’s no fair