Trainspotting by Irvine Welsh Read Free Book Online

section of a chest of drawers. Alice’s undies were in the next one down. Nina was startled by the range of underwear Alice had. They ranged from outsized garments which Nina held against her, and which almost came down to her knees, to skimpy, lacy briefs she could never imagine her auntie wearing. One pair were made of the same material as the black lace gloves Nina had. She removed the gloves to feel the pants. Although she liked these ones, she picked a pink flowery pair, then went back into the bathroom to put them on.
    When she got downstairs, she noted that alcohol had displaced tea as the gathering’s principal social lubricant. Dr Sim stood, whisky in hand, talking to Uncle Kenny, Uncle Boab and Malcolm. She wondered if Malcolm would be asking him about fallopian tubes. The men were all drinking with a stoic determination, as if it was a serious duty. Despite the grief, there was no disguising the sense of relief in the air. This was Andy’s third heart attack, and now that he had finally checked out, they could get on with their lives without jumping nervously whenever they heard Alice’s voice on the phone.
    Another cousin, Geoff, Malky’s brother, had arrived. He looked at Nina with something she felt was akin to hate. It was unnerving and strange. He was a wanker though. All Nina’s cousins were, the ones she knew at any rate. Her Auntie Cathy and Uncle Davie (he was from Glasgow and a Protestant), had two sons: Billy, who had just come out of the army, and Mark, who was supposed to be into drugs. They were not here, as they hardly knew Andy or any of the Bonnyrigg crowd. They would probably be at the funeral. Or perhaps not. Cathy and Davie once had a third son, also called Davie, who had died almost a year ago. He was badly mentally and physically handicapped and had lived most of his life in a hospital. Nina had only seen him once, sitting twisted in a wheelchair, mouth open and eyes vacant. She wondered how Cathy and Davie must have felt about his death. Again sad, but perhaps also relieved.
    Shite. Geoff was coming over to talk to her. She had once pointed him out to Shona, who said that he looked like Marti from Wet Wet Wet. Nina hated both Marti and the Wets and, anyway, thought that Geoff was nothing like him.
    — Awright, Nina?
    — Aye. It’s a shame aboot Uncle Andy.
    — Aye, Whit kin ye say? Geoff shrugged his shoulders. He was twenty-one and Nina thought that was ancient.
    — So when dae ye finish the school? he asked her.
    — Next year. Ah wanted tae go now but ma Ma hassled us tae stey.
    — Takin O Grades?
    — Aye.
    — Which yins?
    — English, Maths, Arithmetic, Art, Accounts, Physics, Modern Studies.
    — Gaunnae pass them?
    — Aye. It’s no that hard. Cept Maths.
    — Then whit?
    — Git a job. Or git oan a scheme.
    — No gaunnae stey oan n take Highers?
    — Naw.
    — Ye should. You could go tae University.
    — Whit fir?
    Geoff had to think for a while. He had recently graduated with a degree in English Literature and was on the dole. So were most of his fellow graduates. — It’s a good social life, he said.
    Nina recognised that the look Geoff had been giving her was not one of hate, but of lust. He’d obviously been drinking before he had arrived and his inhibitions were lowered.
    — You’ve really grown, Nina, he said.
    — Aye, she blushed, knowing she was doing it, and hating herself for it.
    — Fancy gittin oot ay here? Ah mean, can ye get intae pubs? We could go ower the road fir a drink.
    Nina weighed up the offer. Even if Geoff talked student shite, it had to be better than staying here. They would be seen in the pub by somebody, this was Bonnyrigg, and somebody would talk. Shona and Tracy would find out, and would want to know who this dark, older guy was. It was too good an opportunity to miss.
    Then Nina remembered the gloves. Absentmindedly, she had left them on the top of the chest of drawers in Andy’s room. She excused herself from Geoff. — Aye,