Ugly Puggly 53

Ugly Puggly’s jaw stuck out, and he ground his teeth. A sputtering noise came from the back of his throat. ‘Would yous two stop fuckin about? I’m no the religious type, but there’s a prayer that goes somethin like we shouldnae get whit we truly deserve. We maybe no trust oursel.’ He turned and stared at me. ‘But we need tae trust in each other. We might no like it. But that’s the way it is. We might aw be grains of sand in a vast beach, but let’s not think we’re a bigger grain of sand than the guy next tae us.’

‘I didnae say that,’ said Dave.

‘Whit’s he talkin about?’ I asked.

‘Dunno,’ Ugly Puggly shook his head and trudged towards the stairs in his boxers. ‘I’ll leave yous tae it.’

I followed him up the stairs and went to my bed, even though it was still early. Befuddled, I didn’t know the time or where I was when I opened my eyes. I let the dark creep up on and prayed for sleep. Ugly Puggly had also told us a story about some guys in a concentration camp. They had some kind of precious oil in a small bottle which only ran out when they stopped sharing it. He was going a bit crazy, like the rest of us. His story was true and not true too. I listened for him and Dave next door, but couldn’t hear anything. I tried to be normal with the booze, which wasn’t normal.

I got up and admitted defeat. I sat on the edge of the quilt and looked out the window. Wind carried in the trees and clouds chased each other. The work van sat in the bay, waiting for the workman. Exhausted, I didn’t want to go back.

But I went through the motions in the morning. And that carried me to the first tea break, then to lunch time. Then to the later than usual skive. Like muscle memory, I sat in another van they’d allocated, after the work van I’d be using, mysteriously developed a fault after I’d parked it. As if somebody had taken a pair of clippers to electrical wires.

My gaffer said it might be aff the road for a while. He studied my face. ‘How was it runnin when you were aff for nearly six weeks?’

I was good at playing dumb and angry. ‘How would I know? I wisnae using it? Wiz I?’    

‘Jist sayin.’

‘Jist sayin tae,’ was my argument.  

I took the new van home with me at lunchtime the next day. I still had the shakes and brain fog, but for Molly that would have been normal. I’d a look in at the windows of the Bongo as I passed it on the driveway. The back tyre on the driver’s side looked to have lost air, and I’d need to take it out and get it checked.

Molly answered the door wearing a beige top with stripes and grey jogging trousers. Her hair was in a ponytail and she smelled fresh. She looked to have lost a bit of weight, but I hadn’t seen her in six weeks. So she might be the same weight, but look different.

She looked over my shoulder as if expecting somebody else. ‘It’s you.’ She left the door open and I followed her into the kitchen.

Clean and tidy with splashback on the walls. My eyes were used to grime and the brownish dark colours that god had created the world with. Old-world values that still held true in Ugly Puggly’s house.

‘I thought I’d have some lunch wae yeh,’ I pulled out a seat at the table. ‘Somethin light.’  

‘Jim,’ she said. ‘You cannae just swan in here and demand lunch.’

I grinned. ‘Is it a bit too early for sex, then?’ Puffed my chest out. ‘You know I’m good for it.’

She laughed. ‘Fat chance.’ She went to put the kettle on and pulled open the unit door above the worktops and peered in at stacked tins. ‘I’ve no got anythin much.’ Whirling around, she asked, ‘Whit about a cheese sandwich?’

I shrugged and patted my belly. ‘Alright,’ but then added, since my guts were hurting, ‘Yeh got any soup?’

She shook her head, bit down on her bottom lip. Pulling open the cupboard above the fridge, she peered inside. ‘I’ve only got lentil, celery, Oxtail and tomato.’

‘Yeh runnin an orphanage or gettin regular deliveries fae the foodbank?’

‘You’ll no be wantin anythin, then’ she said in a shrill voice.

I yawned and leaned my elbows on the table, slumping down. ‘Is the tomato fresh?’

She glowered. ‘Whit’s wrang wae you?’ Pulling open the cutlery drawer, she lifted out a tin-opener and held it up to show me. ‘I use this thing and put it in there.’ She pointed at the microwave. ‘Is the tomatoes fresh,’ she muttered under her breath.

‘Sorry, I’ve spendin too much time wae Ugly Puggly.’ The stiffness in her back and the way she held herself, the way she clattered the bright red tomato juice into to bowl so it splashed was a mark of her anger.

She stuck it in the microwave and watched it spin around as if she was watching endless adverts on Channel 5.

‘C’mon sit doon beside me,’ I rapped the table with my knuckles. She turned her head. ‘I’ve got something important to tell yeh.’

That claimed her interest, but she tried not to show it by her busyness. Pulling out a pan loaf out of the bread pin and sticking two slices into the toaster. She waited for the microwave to ping. An anxious look sharpened her face and made a straight line of her lips.

‘It’s alright,’ I told her. ‘I’m no pregnant, or anythin.’

‘I didnae think yeh were,’ she hit back in a familiar tone. ‘Maybe you should think a bit mair about whit yeh think and dae. I’m no a door mat that yeh can use at yer convenience.’

She carried over the bowl of soup with a checked dishtowel and plonked it down in front of me. Steam rising between us.

‘I’ll need tae get a spoon,’ she wouldn’t meet my eyes but hurried to the cutlery drawer and lifted the plate with bread. Then she cut the slices from the toaster into triangles.

‘Molly,’ I said. ‘It disane matter.’

‘Whit doesnae matter?’

‘You seein somebody else?’

Sucking in her breath, her chest heaved, and she clutched her fist to her mouth.

I leaned on the table to help me get up. She was looking at me out of the corner of her eyes, like a dog that expected to beaten. And would lick your hand afterwards.

‘Molly,’ I had my hand on the kitchen door. She raised her chin and glanced at me. ‘Thanks for the lunch,’ I whispered. I’ll let mysel oot.’

‘Jim,’ she muttered.

I eased the front door shut. I needed a drink, badly.