A train woke me, just as the dawn was seeping from the sky above the dark hotel. I dozed, rang reception to order a taxi to Glasgow, had my breakfast, then went back to the city, taking a newspaper with me and sitting in the back of the cab, partly to avoid smalltalk with the driver. A young Arrochar lad, he was content to listen to the radio while I tried to find out what else had been happening in the world recently.
I went straight to Wee Tommy's ma's, but there was nobody in. Next came St Jute's and then the Griffin, to see if McCann had replied to my note. There was nothing fresh on the pile of junkmail inside the folly's door, and no sign of or message from McCann at the Griff.
I went back to Tommy's folks' house and put a note througn the door telling them to get in touch with my lawyers. Then I went to see them.
Mr Douglas, senior partner at Macrae, Fietch and Warren, said he would contact a firm specialising in criminal work, and a good advocate, and would have the former find out where Tommy was and whether any other lawyer had received instructions to defend him. He was sure they could come to an arrangement. I signed a letter authorising him to make all necessary disbursements to deal with Wee Tommy's case, as soon as his family got in touch.
Macrae, Fietch and Warren's offices are on Union Street. I left them, buzzing with energy, wanting to do something. I marched up the road to the side entrance to Central Station, found a phone and rang the Griffin. Bella answered.
'Aye?'
'Bella; it's... ah... Jimmy Hay,' I said, my mood of busy happiness evaporating instantly as I realised I didn't even know what name to use now.
Bella wheezed. 'Aw aye; that Jimmy Hay the Dan Weir?' She laughed bronchially. I was left, stunned and dismayed, unable to tell whether it really was all a big joke to her or she was being deliberately unkind.
'That's right,' I admitted quietly, as Bella's cackles subsided.
'Okay then, Jimmy; ye'll be wantin that boyfriend of mine Ah suppose, aye?'
'Eh?'
'Ma
'Aye?' It was McCann.
'McCann?' I said, fearfully.
'Ah, it's yersel, is it?' McCann said.
'Yes,' I said, feeling foolish now, not knowing what to say. Ah; what the hell. 'Are you still talking to me?'
'Ah'm talkin tae ye noo, am Ah no?'
'I know, but are you still talking to me? You know what I mean. Are you mad at me? I mean angry?'
'Course Ah'm angry, but that doesnae mean Ah'm no talkin tae ye.'
'I'm not a real capitalist, McCann; I don't own any shares...'
'Aye, aye. Look; dinnae apologise to me, son; life's too short. Buy us a drink an Ah'll tell ye what a lyin basturt ye are.'
'Right! Stay there!' I said.
'No the noo,' McCann said, exasperated. 'Ah've got tae go fur ma check-up at the infirmary; Ah only came in fur a quick hauf on ma way; Ah wiz pittin on ma coat when ye rang.'
'When'll you be free?'
'Ach, they take ages; might be oors. Ah'll get back when Ah can, but probably no before five.'
'Okay, I'll see you then.'
'Right ye are, then.'
'Oh!' I said. 'McCann; do you know anything about Wee Tommy? I've put a note through his mum's door and told her to use my lawyer; I'll pay.'
I wanted to bite my tongue.
McCann tutted. 'Aye, money talks, eh?' He sighed. 'Naw; I havnae heard any thin more. Ah heard the polis came tae see you, that right, aye?'
'Aye. Look, can you think of any other way of getting in touch with his mum and dad?'
'They might be at his auntie's. Ah'll call in; it's on ma way.'
'What, now?'
'Aye, if ye'll let me aff this fuckin phone...'
('Hi you; swear box!' Bella shouted in the background.)
('Aw, shut up, wumin,' McCann muttered.)
'That'd be great... or I could phone them,' I suggested.
'They're no
'Take a taxi!' I yelled. 'I'll p...'
But he'd rung off.
I stood for a moment, holding the phone and remembering something about names... (The first time I'd met Wee Tommy, in the Griffin, I'd leaned to McCann and muttered, 'He's nearly the size of me; why's he called 'Wee'?' and McCann had muttered back, 'His da was called Tommy, tae.' I must have looked puzzled. 'Couldn't they,' I said, 'have called him 'Tam' instead?' McCann had just looked at me.)
Names; Wee Tommy... Jumping Jesus, he must have known all the time!
The policemen had asked for me by name. 'Daniel Weir?' they'd asked. That was what they'd said, and it didn't seem to mean anything special to them, I'd have known. But they knew my name, and the only people they seemed to have talked to had been Wee Tommy, his pal at the supermarket, and Wee Tommy's mum. So Wee Tommy must have told them. He'd known, or guessed, who I was.
I left the phone and wandered across the station concourse, grinning. I didn't know what to do next.
The big black electronic noticeboard flashed yellow with changing orders of departures. Intercities to London and Bristol, a slow train to Edinburgh (I didn't even
The next Paisley train was at platform thirteen. It left in five minutes, according to the station clock. They operate something called the Open Station system here now; no ticket checkers at the barrier, you just walk onto a train, and pay the guard when he comes round if you haven't got a ticket.
Fifteen minutes later I was in Paisley, heading for Espedair Street.
Paisley had and hadn't changed. Busier with cars, maybe not quite so busy with people. Newer, brighter, sometimes different shops. A few higher buildings. I walked through the angled sunshine of a December's day, experiencing a strange mixture of elation and... I don't know what to call it; exalted bitterness seems closest. I sang to myself, inside my head, the songs I had heard the previous night, in the hotel, through the wall and through the years, remembering Christine's voice and the taste of her lips, the way she moved on stage and the touch of her body.
I walked and remembered, and I found I was humming a new tune, to the beat of my steps, and heard new words combine to fit the tune. And the words said:
