Ugly Puggly 89

Wee Jim turned up earlier than I liked. But I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was always early. Molly made him a cup of tea while I got ready. I pulled on a shirt and denims. My clothes hung off me, but they were clean. My hands shook as I did the buttons, but the Valium kept the worst of the side-effects tamped down. But I didn’t need to think that far ahead. One day at a time was the motto. But I wasn’t sure I could do that either.

I hobbled into the lobby on the way to the loo. Wee Jim sprung to his feet. ‘You ready?’

‘Jist need tae get my jacket.’ I’d a few Valium in my pocket. ‘Gie me a minute.’  I thought about slipping one into his tea to calm him down, but it probably wouldn’t touch him. I needed them more. He had god and I’d anti-anxiety drugs. He had belief and I’d chemicals sloshing about my brain putting up gates and allowing my body to stop vibrating like washing machine on spin dry. I knew which I preferred.

Molly took the cup and saucer from him. He hadn’t touched the biscuits. She’d put them back in the packet and seal it shut in the biscuit tin. They were probably brought down from the burning mountain with Moses and the Ten Commandments. The most important being do not waste Jammy Dodgers. ‘You want me to drive you?’

‘No,’ wee Jim shook his head and squeezed his lips together.

‘Aye,’ I reminded him. ‘I cannae walk any great distance. And it’d save time.

The spare set of keys for the Bongo was hung in a wooden rack near the door with hooks. She squinted at them before picking keys for locks and bikes that I couldn’t remember when we’d bought them, and other keys that were under the general label, but with no label, or no way of knowing other than playing burglar with our spare keys for the neighbour’s houses.

Wee Jim stepped outside. His elbows going as if he was going to make a run for it. Molly linked her arm through mine and we waltzed down the stairs. We were not Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, but we didn’t stand on each other’s toes, which was the start of any relationship.

Wee Jim stood glowering out in the rain, his hand on the door handle waiting for her to spring the central locking.

She pulled open the door and stepped up into the van. ‘Dave’s gonnae come doon later.’

The side door slid open easily enough. The inside smelled like one of those air-freshener fir trees drivers hung on the dashboard. I slid into the seat facing the driver and the road with a wee table in front on me to rest my elbows. Molly tilted her head to look at me in the mirror, but then again, she might just being checking it was all clear as she reversed out of the driveway.

‘Whit’s Dave comin doon for?’ I asked.  

‘Yeh need tae stop that,’ wee Jim told me. ‘Being suspicious of people. Good people that’s tryin tae help yeh.’

‘Shut the fuck up, Jim. Yer no my fuckin da. Yer jist my sponsor. An tae be honest yer being a pain in the arse.’

‘Stop the van,’ he cracked his hand off the glove compartment. ‘I’ll get oot here and walk.’

Molly didn’t brake sharply. Her response would have found her failing her driving test. But I couldn’t remember if she’d ever passed it. She rolled the van near a bus stop across from the corner house.

‘Right,’ wee Jim flung the door open and slid along the seat. ‘I’ll get yeh alang there.’

‘Will yeh?’asked Molly.

He couldn’t meet her eyes and glanced at me. I leaned forward and stared back at him, my hands locked together, but not in prayer. He stepped onto the pavement, but the wind whipped in the open door. ‘But yeh need tae go!’

‘Shut the door, will yeh?’ Molly spoke in a civil tone, but she wasn’t pleased. ‘There’s a draft gettin in.’

‘I’m sorry,’ wee Jim stepped back up into the cab. ‘Sometimes I forget mysel.’

‘I dae that tae,’ I gave him a smile. ‘Nae harm done.’

Molly started the Bongo, but she stared straight ahead. Roadworks and a traffic light at red had us sitting for five minutes at Risk Street. We would have been quicker walking. When we got the green light and she dropped us off at the Hall. She got out too.

‘Whit yeh daeing?’ I asked. I looked to wee Jim for support. ‘It’s a meetin.’

‘I know,’ she clenched the keys to the van. ‘I’ll jist come in and sit at the back of the hall. I’ll no say anythin. It’ll save me comin back.’

I pointed to the grass hill across from us as if she didn’t know the way. ‘But yer jist doon the road.’    

‘Nah,’ she shook her head. ‘Wae the traffic lights.’

Wee Jim huddled inside his long coat, shivering. One of the regular punters passed us and he gave him a nod.

‘But yeh can go that other way,’ I reminded her. ‘Five minutes. Up there and down Clark Street at The Park. That wae you avoid the lights.’

‘Aye, but I don’t like steep hills.’

‘It’s no a tank yer drivin. It’s only for alkies like me. It’s no like a dance hall, where you can sit at the back.’ I slapped my chest as if felt painful. ‘We’ll no be that long. I’ll phone yeh.’

Wee Jim held his hand up. ‘I’m jist goin in.’ He spoke across Molly and gave her a wave, and ignored me.

‘I need to go in tae. Or yeh know whit’s gonnae happen?’ I rubbed the rain into my bald head. ‘I’ll go in and listen tae the usual pish. But even wae that I don’t know if I’m gonnae make it. I can only hope—’  

She cut me off. ‘I’ve been drinkin tae.’

‘Aye, but no like that.’

‘Aye, like that.’

Laura’s car came through the lights and she parked behind our van. We heard the squeal of the handbrake. She was in a hurry. The meeting was starting. Wee Jim would be at the top table. ‘I’m just going in.’

‘I’m jist goin in tae.’ Molly took my hand as we walked up the stairs. ‘You don’t need tae dae this for me.’

‘I know,’ she replied. ‘But I’m daeing it for me. I’m tired. So tired.’ She squeezed my fingers.

‘Jist member,’ I told her. ‘Don’t ask me for a slow dance. Cause I’ll knock yeh back.’

She nudged against my shoulder. ‘Can yeh no take anythin serious?’