Buddha Da Page 25

  ‘Liz, there’s somethin ah want tae talk tae you aboot.’ He was lookin doon at ma haund again, tracin wee circles on ma palm wi his finger. ‘Ah’ve been offered a place on an exchange programme tae the States tae dae ma research there.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Ah’d be away for a year – at least. And if they like me and there’s fundin, maybe longer. Ah havenae said yes … ah’ve tae let them know by Friday.’

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘Ah just got the letter on Thursday. Ah applied six month ago but ma supervisor tellt me the chances of bein picked was remote so ah’d never really thought aboot it. Ah’d meant tae tell you on Friday night, then … this happened. Ah didnae know whit tae say.’

  ‘Are you gaun?’

  ‘That depends on us.’

  ‘It’s your decision. D’you want tae go?’

  ‘Of course ah dae. It’s a big opportunity. But ah don’t want tae let you doon.’

  Ah took hold of his haund.

  ‘Ah’ve got somethin tae tell you too. Ah had some bleedin yesterday.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Ah went tae the hospital and they checked me oot. It’s OK.’

  ‘Ah thought for a minute that …’

  ‘Ah’d lost it. That would’ve been convenient, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Liz, ah didnae mean that.’

  ‘It’s the ideal solution, isn’t it?’

  ‘Suppose so.’

  He put his haund on ma airm. ‘Ah’m sorry, ah didnae mean that. You OK?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘So what caused the bleedin?’

  ‘They don’t know. It happens sometimes – ah had some bleedin at this stage when ah was expectin Anne Marie. They just said tae take it easy over the next few weeks. Efter aboot thirteen weeks you’re safe.’

  ‘So it could still happen?’

  ‘Aye.’

  A seagull wheeled overheid, scraikin, and ah watched it drap doon low, then soar and heid oot across the sea. Ah suppose up till then ah’d still clung on tae some wee shreds of hope, that we’d make it through thegether and when the baby came it would work itsel oot. Ah’d lay in ma bed at night afore ah went tae sleep, imaginin his face when he seen the baby for the first time, fantasisin aboot us and Anne Marie all livin thegether a few year fae noo, when he’d finished his PhD and got a job, mibbe lecturin at the uni or somethin.

  But ah could feel his hope hangin fae him, still hangin, the hope that over the next few weeks there was still a chance that ah’d loss the baby and he’d be free.

  Ah stood up.

  ‘Fancy a game of puttin?’

  ‘Puttin?’

  ‘Aye, we’re at the seaside, aren’t we?’

  There was naebody on the puttin green except a couple of wee boys messin aboot. David took the first shot and sent his ball aboot four feet wide of the hole. Ah stood, claspin the putter, haunds linked thegether, looked at the hole, swung the club gently and sent the ball straight and steady tae land a couple of inches away fae it.

  David gied me the thumbs up. ‘Cool.’

  He took his next shot, first sendin it too far across the other side, then tappin it so gently that it took him another three shots tae get it in.

  Ah nudged mines intae the hole. ‘Two, five.’

  ‘Aw, come on, you’re no keepin scores are you? Ah’m so crap at this.’

  ‘No fun unless you score.’

  ‘Ah’ll warm up soon, you’ll see.’

  But the rest of the game continued the same way, me gettin the ball in two, occasionally three, and him veerin between great long shots that sent it careerin aff too far or wee soft skeetery wans that didnae go far enough.

  It’s great when you get intae a rhythm with puttin, feel the club swing by itsel, as though you’re no really daein it, just usin yer eye tae see where it should go. We never spoke much except for David mutterin ‘Christ’ and ‘Fuck’ when he hit a particularly wild shot, and in the end ah gave up keepin score and just concentrated on whit ah was daein. Eventually, at the 14th hole ah done it – the ball travelled slowly and smoothly alang the grass and tapped intae the hole in wan.

  ‘Ah think ah should just gie up noo.’

  ‘Nae chance … you have tae finish.’

  ‘So ma humiliation is complete.’

  Efterwards we went intae the café and sat at a table in the windae.

  David looked at the menu. ‘Fancy an ice cream?’

  ‘Ah want wanny they big fancy wans, a knickerbocker glory or somethin.’

  ‘Don’t think ah could manage that. Ah’ll just have a snowball ice.’

  ‘You’re no eatin for two.’

  The train hame was swelterin, wi that leftower heat you get at the end of a hot day, the sun mixed wi the heat fae the engine. Ma skirt was all wrinkled and there was a grass stain on the front. David put his airm round me. ‘That was a brilliant day.’

  ‘Aye, it was.’

  ‘Let’s dae it again.’

  ‘Ah don’t think so.’

  Ah looked oot the windae. A flash of sunlight shootin through the dark blue sea. ‘Ah don’t think there’ll be time – you’ll have a lot of packin afore you go away.’

  ‘Ah never said ah was definitely gaun.’

  ‘You’re gaun.’

  ‘But whit aboot the baby?’

  ‘Whit aboot it? You’re gaun tae America. You’ll no be here.’

  ‘Ah don’t want tae run oot on you.’

  ‘You’re no. It’s a big chance for you. There’s nothin you can dae here. You have tae go. And ah’ve got a few things tae work oot on ma ain.’

  Jimmy was in the kitchen when ah got back, puttin a casserole dish in the oven.

  ‘Ah came round tae see you but Anne Marie said you’d gone oot. She’s away round at Nisha’s so ah thought ah’d make masel useful.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Need tae keep yer strength up.’

  ‘Aye.’

  Ah lifted the kettle, ran the cauld tap. ‘Want a cuppa tea the noo?’

  ‘Aye, OK.’

  We sat at the kitchen table, two identical mugs in front of us. Sippin tea, listenin tae the clock tick. Just the same as we always had been. Even though Jimmy didnae live here any mair it was just the way it had always been. But noo it couldnae stay the same, soon the bairn growin inside me would change everythin.

  ‘Jimmy, when are we gonnae tell Anne Marie?’

  ‘Whit are we gonnae tell Anne Marie? Ah mean, is this guy gonnae move in wi you? Are you gonnae move in wi him?’

  ‘Naw. We’re no. Ah seen him this efternoon. It’s over.’

  His face was darker, mair lined, as if it had been carved oot of wood. ‘How is it over? He cannae dae that – you’re havin a baby.’

  ‘Ah know ah’m havin a baby. He hasnae run oot. It’s me – ah tellt him ah didnae want tae see him.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Cause ah don’t. Look – ah don’t want tae talk aboot him the noo, OK? What aboot Anne Marie? Ah think we should tell her thegether.’

  ‘Whatever you think.’

  ‘Jimmy, ah know it’s gonnae be a terrible shock for her, and she’ll need us baith … ah’ve been thinkin.’

  ‘Whit?’

  ‘Well, Anne Marie and me are gaun tae the cottage as usual – it was all booked up afore Mammy passed on and … anyway, would you come wi us? Then we could tell her when we’re thegether, when she’s away fae here.’

  Anne Marie

  AH HELD THE silver circle in ma haund, fingers just touchin it at the edge, watchin it sparkle in the light fae Nisha’s lamp. It was done, finished. And it was all wer ain work.

  Of course we couldnae of done it wioot Gurpreet – he done all the mixin, the computer stuff, and added in the odd wee touch, a note here and there. But really he’d put thegether what we’d decided, Nisha and me, efter all those sessions round at ma hoose. The Tibetan lamas’ deep gravelly voices risin and fallin in a singsong rhyt
hm, then Nisha’s voice comin in on tap – ‘salve’ and then mines echoin – ‘salve’as if we were callin tae each other across wanny they Tibetan hillsides. Mair chantin then the two ‘salves’ repeated, then me singin ‘Salve Regina’ the whole way through, as pure and straight as ah could. But when ah got tae ‘ad te clamamus’ Nisha’s voice comin in, singin in Punjabi, swoopin higher and higher, random phrases, wi Indian drums sampled through it so it became dead clamorous and frantic, then a slow descent wi the ‘Salve Regina’ bit gettin louder but just repeatin and Nisha’s voice sayin, ‘Hail, holy queen, mother of mercy, hail our life, our sweetness and our hope’, then the whole thing echoin away tae just ‘salve, salve, salve,’ repeated.

  ‘It is so cool.’ Gurpreet smiled. ‘No competition.’

  Ah couldnae wait tae show it tae Ma and Da, let them hear it, though on the way hame ah started tae wonder what they’d make of it. Nisha and me had been that caught up in actually daein the thing, gettin it finished, that their reaction had been the last thing on ma mind. But noo it occurred tae me that ma daddy couldnae stand sampled music so he’d probably no like it and ah wondered if mammy would think it was a bit disrespectful usin the ‘Salve Regina’ that way, especially since ah’d sung it at ma granny’s funeral.

  But they were dead chuffed, though ah don’t think they knew whit tae make of it at first. Ah watched their faces as they listened the first time: ma daddy’s wee smile as he recognised the lamas’ chantin then, them lookin at each other as ma voice came in singin ‘Salve Regina’. When it was finished ma daddy said, ‘That’s amazin, hen,’ and Mammy gied me a hug and said, ‘Well done.’

  ‘Put it on again, Anne Marie,’ says ma daddy.

  ‘Aye, you cannae really take it in all at once,’ says Mammy.

  So ah played it over a few times, waitin for them tae say mair, say sumpn detailed aboot it, aboot the way it hung thegether or the effect or that, but all Mammy said was, ‘It’s brilliant. It really grows on you.’ And ma daddy said, ‘Yous’re bound tae win, hen.’

  And ah was dead chuffed that they liked it but efterwards, sittin in ma room, ah kept feelin that there was sumpn missin. As if they hadnae really got it. And ah really wanted them, no just tae like it, but tae unnerstaund it. And ah didnae think they did.

  Jimmy

  ON THE TUESDAY mornin ah had tae take the van for a service. Even if your whole life’s fallin round aboot your ears, the van still needs tae get serviced. And ah had tae dae it since John was tied up wi the new baby.

  Ah’d went round tae see the wean again last night. Took Anne Marie – don’t know how ah’d of managed it by masel the noo. Tricia’s face all lit up, John beamin, the hoose fulla baby stuff. And thon wee bundle, her face crumpled fae sleep.

  The garage is in a side street just round the corner fae Brigton Cross. John and me have been bringin it here for years – Joe’s an auld pal fae school – he was in the band wi us when we were young. He’s done OK for hissel, got a coupla mechanics workin for him noo and a nice hoose somewhere on the sooth side.

  He slides oot fae under a motor, haunds black wi oil.

  ‘Good tae see you, man. How’s the big brother?’

  ‘Great. Tricia’s just had a wee wean.’

  ‘Brilliant. Tell him ah was askin for them.’

  ‘Aye, ah’ll dae that. When d’you think you’ll be finished.’

  ‘Gie’s an hour – if there’s anythin big needin done you’ll need tae bring it back – is that OK? Ah’m a bit busy the day.’

  ‘Aye that’s OK. Ah’ll just have a wee wander.’

  Ah walked up past the umbrella at Brigton Cross. They’ve done it all up noo, painted and restored it but it still looks shabby and sad. The hooses look a lot better though. When we were growin up the tenements were all covered wi stour but noo they’re cleaned up, wi door entry systems and that. Walkin alang Main Street felt that weird; ah used tae dae this every day but it was as if it was somebody else that had done it. And like a different city fae the wan ah live in noo.

  Then ah seen it – or rather ah seen the gap where it used tae be. Just round the corner fae the Main Street. Ah don’t know why ah felt that gutted. There was a big stooshie the other year when the cooncil wanted tae knock doon some of the schools – supposed tae save money so they can dae up the wans that are left. And ah knew this was wanny the wans that was gettin flattened and never thought anythin aboot it at the time. Efter all, why should ah care – ah’d never bothered wi school when ah was there, couldnae wait tae leave. Ah’d no stayed round here for years and all ma family’d moved away too. And it wasnae some great architectural treasure – just a scabby sixties school like a million others. So how come when ah turned that corner and seen that big gap where it used tae be, ah felt as if somebody’d punched me.

  Ah crossed the road and stood, just lookin. The space where it had been looked huge, much bigger than the school. They’d left the rubble strewn across the land, a wasteground fenced by metal palins wi paint peelin aff them. Broken tarmac, dusty heaps of auld bricks, shreds of poly bags driftin among the dogshit. Ah felt anger risin in me. Must of been nearly a year ago since they’d demolished it. So how come they couldnae dae somethin wi it? Couldnae landscape it and stick a few plants in tae make it look nice? How come the folk that lived here had tae look oot their windaes and watch this filthy heap day after day?

  Ah heided doon towards Greendyke Street. Anne Marie had taped their CD for me and ah put it on ma Walkman. Ah’d never been able tae get intae that kind of sampled stuff afore, always thought there was somethin kind of cheatin aboot it, but as ah walked alang ah kept listenin, beginnin tae feel how the rough voices of the lamas and the sweet high voices of the girls just fitted that perfectly, replayed it till it was fillin ma heid, blockin oot everythin else.

  Ah just kept walkin. Through the Green, up the Saltmarket, cuttin through the side streets tae George Square, then on and on till ah reached the Centre. Paid nae attention tae anythin till ah reached that yella door.

  It was the first time ah’d been back since ah chucked the paint – couldnae face gaun back there efter whit ah’d done. Last night ah’d dossed doon at ma mammy’s hoose – she was the wan person who’d ask me nae questions.

  Ah opened the door, quietly. Felt as if ah was fifteen again, comin back tae the hoose pissed, hopin naebody’d be up. Ah opened the door of the meditation room. Don’t know whit ah expected tae see – a row of lamas prayin for ma soul, the polis sittin waitin tae charge me, but the room was empty. Everythin was exactly as ah’d left it. Except, in the daylight, it looked different. Like a giant wean had been playin wi paints, mixin them all up thegether intae a muddy mess. The outline of the Buddha was still visible under the big splashes of paint, but only wan haund, the wan raised in blessin, had escaped completely. The pile of cushions on the flair underneath the mural was covered in paint and ma sleepin bag was a wipe oot.

  The door opened and the Rinpoche entered.

  ‘Hello, Jimmy.’

  Ah wanted tae say ah was sorry but the words wouldnae come oot. He stood beside me, lookin at the wall.

  ‘I did not realise you were going to do a Jackson Pollock version of the Buddha. Very modern.’

  ‘Ah’ll clean it up the noo.’ Ah couldnae look at his face.

  ‘Maybe you should not do it right away.’

  ‘How no? You don’t want the room lookin like this.’

  He touched ma airm. ‘At this moment the room looks like this. Let us sit with it for a while. Just sit and look.’

  He sat doon in front of it and ah sat beside him. Ah didnae want tae look. All they hours of work and now look at it. A fuckin mess. Ah knew whit he was tryin tae dae. Or tryin tae make me dae. Face reality. Look at what ah’d done, what ah was daein. Ah’d read in wanny they books that lamas slept in coffins so they’d be mair aware of death. But ah didnae want tae look at death, ah just wanted tae live. That was how ah’d got interested in the lamas in the first place. Cos ah liked bein wi the
m, they made me feel mair peaceful, mair real. Ah didnae want tae look at the clarty shitty mess ah’d made oot the bright pure colours. Or think aboot why ah’d done it – just wanted tae clean it up.

  Ah stood up and started tae lift the cushions oot the road. ‘At least they protected the flair – there’s only a few bits. And it’s mully – it’ll wash aff.’

  He nodded.

  Ah took a couple of bin bags fae the kitchen, started tae lift the empty paint tins and place them inside it. Then ah got ma brushes and a tin of white paint oot the cupboard in the hall. Ah dipped ma brush, started fae the tap left haund corner and worked ma way across the wall, white brushstrokes blankin oot the colours beneath. It’d need another coat but at least ah didnae have tae look at it any mair. Once ah’d finished ah put the lid on the tin, cleaned ma brush in the sink. Then ah went back intae the room and cleaned the paint fae the flair wi a scrubbin brush. All the time the lama sat and watched me.

  ‘Ah’d better be gaun, Rinpoche. Ah was supposed tae get the van hours ago.’

  ‘Don’t forget this, Jimmy.’ He held oot his haund. Ah took the wee tin of gold paint, put it in ma pocket and left.

  Liz

  IT WAS WEIRD, makin up the beds. The big double upstairs for me, the single in the attic for Anne Marie. There were two single beds in the room; when she was really wee she used tae get me tae make up the other bed for her teddies and dollies. Sometimes Charlene came alang – if things had been different this year, she could of brung Nisha.

  And the wee room doonstairs. Mammy’s room. Noo ah’m makin it up for Jimmy.

  We waited a couple of days tae tell her. Couldnae face daein it right away, thought we’d let wersels get settled in. It was lovely, sunny as usual, just lazin round on the beach. It’s funny, when you’re here you start tae feel as if this is really your life, wakin up wi the sea visible fae your windae, the different light, wooden floorboards and white painted furniture in the room.