Greyhound for Breakfast by James Kelman Read Free Book Online Page A

Mick: ‘Dont believe a word of it.’
    ‘It’s gen,’ said Eddie, ‘just the maw and that. Plus I was wanting to see a few of the old faces. A wee while since I’ve been away, three year.’
    ‘Aye and no even a postcard!’
    ‘You never sent me one!’
    ‘Aye but I dont know where the fuck you get to man I mean I fucking thought you were inside!’
    ‘Tch!’
    ‘He’s supposed to be my best mate as well Mick, what d’you make of it!’
    Mick smiled.
    Not too long afterwards Eddie had swallowed the last of his whisky and then the heavy beer. ‘That’s me,’ he said, ‘better hit the road. Aw right Tam! Mick, nice meeting
you.’ Eddie shook hands with the two of them again.
    Fisher said, ‘No bothering about the racing on the telly then . . .’
    ‘Nah, better no – I’ve got a couple of things to do. The maw as well Tam, I’ve got to see her.’
    ‘Aye how’s she keeping? I dont see her about much.’
    ‘Aw she’s fine, keeping fine.’
    ‘That’s good. Tell her I was asking for her.’
    ‘Will do . . .’ Eddie edged his way out. The elderly man shifted on his chair, made a movement towards the drink he had lying by his hand. Eddie nodded at Mick and said to Fisher,
‘I’ll probably look in later on.’
    A couple of faces at the bar seemed familiar but not sufficiently so and he continued on to the exit, strolling, hands in his trouser pockets, the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. Outside
on the pavement he glanced from right to left, then the pub door banged behind him. It was Fisher. Eddie looked at him. ‘Naw eh . . .’ Fisher sniffed. ‘I was just wondering and
that, how you’re fixed, just a couple of quid.’
    Eddie sighed, shook his head. ‘Sorry Tam but I’m being honest, I’ve got to hit the bank straight away; I’m totally skint.’
    ‘Aw. Okay. No problem.’
    ‘I mean if I had it . . . I’m no kidding ye, it’s just I’m skint.’
    ‘Naw dont worry about it Eddie.’
    ‘Aye but Christ!’ Eddie held his hands raised, palms upwards. ‘Sorry I mean.’ He hesitated a moment then said, ‘Wait a minute . . .’ He dug out a big handful
of loose change from his trouser pockets and arranged it into a neat sort of column on his left hand, and presented it to Fisher. ‘Any good?’
    Fisher gazed at the money.
    ‘Take it,’ said Eddie, giving it into his right hand.
    ‘Ta Eddie. Mick’s been keeping me going in there.’
    ‘When’s the giro due?’
    ‘Two more days.’
    ‘Garbage eh.’ He paused, nodded again and patted Fisher on the side of the shoulder. ‘Right you are then Tam, eh! I’ll see ye!’
    ‘Aye.’
    ‘I’ll take a look in later on.’
    ‘Aye do that Eddie. You’ve actually just caught me at a bad time.’
    ‘I know the feeling,’ said Eddie and he winked and gave a quick wave. He walked on across the street without looking behind. Farther along he stepped sideways onto the path up by the
Art Galleries.
    There were a lot of children rushing about, plus women pushing prams. And the bowling greens were busy. Not just pensioners playing either, even young boys were out. Eddie still had the
Record
rolled in his pocket and he sat down on a bench for a few minutes, glancing back through the pages again, examining what was on at all the cinemas, theatres, seeing the pub
entertainment and restaurants advertised.
    No wind. Hardly even a breeze. The sun seemed to be beating right down on his head alone. Or else it was the alcohol; he was beginning to feel the effects. If he stayed on the bench he would end
up falling asleep. The hotel. He got up, paused to light a cigarette. Along Sauchiehall Street there was a good curry smell coming from somewhere. He was starving. He turned into the entrance to
The Green Park, walking up the wee flight of stairs and into the lobby, the reception lounge. Somebody was hoovering carpets. He pressed the buzzer button, pressed it again when there came a break
in the noise.
    The girl who had brought him