Dirt Road. James Kelman
what age is he! Honest to God I was expecting a kid! How old are ye son?
Sixteen, coming up for seventeen.
God love us! My own big sister’s grandson Murdo that’s who you are! She never made it but you have. Uncle John laughed then shook hands with Dad a second time. Tommy son I never thought to see ye. I feel weepy! He sighed, then introduced the other man. A good friend. Dave Arnott. Got the Macdonald blood in him. Eh Dave!
Dave smiled and shook hands with Dad then Murdo. Uncle John meanwhile lifted Dad’s suitcase. Dad said quickly, That’s heavy.
Uncle John gave him an amused look and hoisted it into the boot of the four-by-four. Although much older than Dad he lifted the suitcase easily. Murdo made to shove his rucksack into the boot but Dad did so instead. Uncle John closed the boot and showed Dad into the front passenger’s seat. Dave and Murdo were for the rear. Murdo sat on the side behind Dad. While they were finding the seat-belts Uncle John said: Tommy son, how in hell you ever end up in Allentown, Mississippi!
Dad sighed.
Uncle John laughed. One for the storybooks eh!
He drove in a relaxed way, chatting to Dad with one hand on the wheel, shouting occasional comments back to Murdo and Dave, while the radio played country music. He lived in a small town someplace on the outer regions was how he described it: I call it Scotstown. Every second person ye meet. Take Dave’s family now the Arnotts, they been here since forever, eh Dave?
Couple of hundred years, said Dave.
Hear that? Puts us all to shame! Then you got Macleods, Macleans, Macsweens, Macaulays, Johnsons – Johnson’s a Scottish name Tommy?
Yeah.
Just everywhere ye go!
Dave turned to Murdo. You got Arnotts and Macdonalds round where you come from?
Eh yeah, I think so.
The old Macdonalds! cried Uncle John. They were the ones with the farm; eh Murdo boy!
It was the Battle of Culloden that ended it for the Macdonalds, said Dad. They were forced to leave the country after that. They would have been wiped out otherwise.
Jees yeah! Hear that Dave? Wiped out! Then ye got the other one, Glencoe. Right Tommy?
Yeah. And before that the Covenanters.
The Covenanters! Uncle John called over his shoulder.
They got a homecoming two years from now! replied Dave.
When Dad didnt answer Dave Arnott looked to Murdo for a comment but Murdo was not sure what he meant. Dad was knowledgeable on history and politics but he wasnt.
Later no one was talking. Uncle John had increased the volume on the radio. It was for one particular song, loud on mandolin. Bill Monroe! he said. His people now they hail from the Outer Hebridee Islands Tommy, you believe that? Bill Monroe! Come from the island of Lewis. Uncle John started singing along on the chorus: I’m on my way to the old home, a place I know so well.
He knew the song but not the words and continued in a doo doo doo doo doo style. He stopped soon and chuckled. That’s us Tommy son! On our way to the old home! Hey Murdo! You sleeping back there?
Nearly.
Nearly! Uncle John laughed.
*
It was past two in the morning by the time they arrived. Murdo enjoyed that drive. He didnt remember Uncle John too well but there was something about being here and traveling a road ye had never been before with this old guy from yer own family. Murdo’s granny was Uncle John’s big sister. That gave Murdo a nice feeling too, seeing the parallel with himself and Eilidh. When Uncle John spoke about his sister ye could see how much she meant to him. His own wife was Aunt Maureen. Murdo met her back when he was wee but couldnt remember anything about her. Her and Uncle John had two sons living in other parts of America: first cousins of Dad.
Aunt Maureen had gone to bed but left sandwiches for them on a plate. Uncle John put on the kettle for tea. Dad just sat there, he looked exhausted. Murdo said, Mum would have loved it here Dad wouldnt she.
Dad smiled.
Uncle John was Dad’s relation by blood but Mum would have loved the adventure. Plus the house; detached bungalow-style with a basement, comfy and with wee ornaments and fancy-looking things. All of it, Mum would have loved it.
Murdo was put in the basement. When Uncle John told Murdo he said, Great. Uncle John laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. Aunt Maureen had guessed he would choose that because it was what boys liked.
But for Murdo it was only because it was out the way of things and he could relax and not have to bother about stuff. There was one big room and two wee ones and the stairs down opened into the big one. A mattress was on the floor but Aunt Maureen had prepared it like a bed with sheets and a duvet, and left two towels neat and folded on top of it. That was the towels. Ha ha to Dad. People gave ye towels if ye were a guest.
With his two sons long gone Uncle John wanted to develop the basement properly. He hadnt got round to it yet but would in the future. A question of time, he said. Most of the space was taken up with furniture and stuff; cupboards, wardrobes and different types of tables; big polythene bags bundled together. He had shifted stuff to create space for Murdo roundabout the bed area but it was difficult to walk without banging into something, and the same in the two small rooms adjacent. But it was still good, and private too: Murdo liked that.
Dad had brought Uncle John a bottle of whisky as a present. He examined the label: Very nice indeed. I’ll enjoy this. He stuck it away into a cupboard and brought another one out already opened. He poured wee ones for him and Dad and added a drop of water. Yeah, he said, you got relations everywhere Tommy. Now Molly Mulhearn, my own mother’s first cousin, we called her Auntie Molly, ever hear of her? she was a great old character.
Uncle John carried on talking. It was good interesting stuff but Murdo was too tired. The thought of getting into bed! Dad too must have been tired. And what about Uncle John himself? He had been working all day then come to collect them, and tomorrow morning it was back to work – in six hours’ time! How do ye cope? asked Dad.
I’m used to it, he said.
Murdo smiled, smothering a yawn. Although past retiral age Uncle John had worked in the same full-time job for years, and traveled long distances. It had to do with maintenance, warehouses and stores, and clean bright offices too; factories and stores and a long long way away but nice because fields and valleys and clean bright offices, warehouses and the stores, he hadnt been able to get time off with the high maintenance, working weekends and all sorts was a sore point. Here they were, Dad and Murdo, and Uncle John was having to work. He had tried and tried but they didnt let him. Ye would think after all these years but no, they couldnt manage without him because like high technology was high maintenance, if ye couldnt go right it was disasters all round to do with everything, just everything and it was only him knew the ins and outs. Uncle John had stopped talking. Murdo opened his eyes and smiled. Uncle John was grinning. Away to yer bed son, ye’re out on yer feet.
I was just . . .
Ye were snoring!
I wasnt, I’m fine.
Away ye go.
Okay.
Dad smiled, he was sipping at his glass of whisky. Uncle John rose from his armchair and gave Murdo another cuddle thump thump thump. Take a sandwich and a glass of milk down with ye, he said.
Are ye sure?
Oh never say that in this house son! Aunt Maureen left them there to be eaten so ye better eat them. Ye’re in yer own house and ye’ve got to remember that. She’ll give ye what-for if ye dont! Ever heard of Geronimo?
The Indian Chief, said Dad.
Now ye’re talking Tommy that’s yer Aunt Maureen! Uncle John sat back down and lifted his whisky.
Murdo