These Demented Lands by Alan Warner Read Free Book Online

apple,picked it on up and without rubbing it on the Levi’s, I bit into it. I goes, ‘Look,’ hoiked the knapsack off and took out the other yacht jacket from the Chandlers, offering it. ‘Give us a backie over to The Drome Hotel.’
    â€˜Aye. Lost your husband?’
    â€˜I just want to stay there a bit.’ I looked up at the awful hugeness of mountain tops round us. ‘Then everything will be alright again. For a while.’
    He took the jacket in his hands then handed it back, ‘Not my style, honey.’
    â€˜You could sell it on.’
    â€˜Tell you what, I’ll sharpen your knife for nothing!’ He wheeched his leg sudden over the bike so’s you had to take a step back to mind the antlers. With a squat he was down lifting the bike onto its fold-out stand, then he took a belt, like a Hoover belt, attached it to a grooved disc by the centre of the back wheel; from a worn leather pannier he took a black grinding stone with its glistening wee bits, and affixed it near the pedal, pulled on the belt taut, and when he turned the throttle on the handlebar the stone went whizzing round.
    â€˜It’s okay. Really,’ I says.
    â€˜Give it here; I’ll give it a dicht.’ He took the knife and began the folding out of some blades from the handle. There was a wee set of scissors that he squinted at then began snipping away at the bushy nostril hairs peeking out of his nose. ‘I’ll give you a hurl for this.’
    â€˜It’s no mine. It’s a friend’s and I’ll need to give it back.’
    With both hands he pushed the little blade onto the spinning stone, a screeling noise hurled sparks down onto thewet macadam. Very handily he flipped the knife over and leaned in the blade again. ‘Do you know Chef Macbeth at The Drome? I do all his knives for him.’
    â€˜I don’t know anyone there.’
    â€˜Why are you going?’
    â€˜Wee holiday,’ I shrugged shoulders.
    â€˜Huh! That’ll be right.’
    I says, ‘Mmm, is it all guests are husband and wife – new, like?’
    â€˜Nah – nah, they’ve that Man From The Department of Transport. You’ll see him. You’ll see that one thieving all the bits of sheds and outhouses back; it’s legal landfall, legitimate salvage, I was talking about this with the Argonaut. It’s legitimate salvage, girl!’
    Just to be on the safe side I took the knife off him. Sudden-like he had the buttons on his shirt undone and was tugging it open so’s you could see the greying hairy chest. I took a few steps away.
    â€˜I’ve a hole in the heart. Listen! Boom-boom BOOM, boom-boom BOOM! Listen, girl.’
    â€˜Don’t really want to.’
    â€˜Listen for luck.’
    I huffed out a puff and swept my hair, that was heavy and greasy, away from my ear, leaned down and ever so cautious-like put my side of face against the hard chest. It was right enough, the heart beat weirdly with a third beat added on strangelike. ‘You’re right enough, your heart beats differently,’ I took my head up and shook my hair.
    Knifegrinder leered, ‘Some of us beat to a different drum.’
    â€˜Aye. That much is true,’ I says.
    He buttoned up his shirt and started to sing or shout:
    â€˜Mama she was the work of the Devil
    And the fire escapes are burned to Hell . . .’
    He walked in a circle pretending to play guitar then he rapidly scuffled over and up to my face hissing, ‘
You
know fine why you’re here and so do I, Jessie, youre a hunter and scavenger like the rest that come here from all ends of the galaxy. A hunter with a wee goal in mind, eh, EH! Well I’ll tell you something, I’ll tell you something, Calamity Jane,’ he swung his head in all directions scanning the hillsides that were leaping up all round us with white gashes of new-filled streams striping the glen among the wet, green knobbles and