from the highlands.
Tammas smiled. He had returned to the chair and was sitting with one elbow on the edge of the table, his other hand in his trouser pocket.
I know she barks at some of the poor old souls but at least she makes sure nobody takes what doesnt belong to them. Margaret smiled. And she can be cheery when she likes. Anyway, before she came
to the ward it was terrible; you could hardly leave a packet of biscuits down without there was somebody pinching it. Grannie was always losing things, it wasnt fair.
Aye. Did you no say she was a gossip but?
No. Margaret shook her head abruptly. The wee highland one? No, not at all; you’re mixing her up.
Mm.
Margaret turned, her back to him; she switched on the cold water tap and washed her hands. When she had dried them and returned the hand-towel to the rail she glanced at the clock again.
Eh Margaret . . . He stood up, nodded at the pots on the oven while lifting a dinner plate: Mind if I take mine the now? I’ll just eat it in the room if it’s okay. I’ve got a
book I’m reading.
•••
Three men in suits had appeared on the path outside the factory door. They gazed at the canal, one of them talking and the other two listening. Then a foreman came out to join
them. Tammas stepped out from the wall, he strode in their direction. He continued past them and in through the doorway. He strode on across the factory floor to the hoist but when he reached it he
paused, then carried straight on up the corridor, and he made his way round to the back staircase leading to the small storeroom on the top floor.
The man in charge was sitting up by the hoist with a clipboard of papers on his lap. Tammas watched him for a time, before sidling in from the fire-escape exit, and moving in behind the large
stacks of packing crates. Piles of old sacking lay in the corner. When he reached there he felt in at the bottom of some of it and brought out a couple of
Readers’ Digests
, and lowered
himself down onto the sacking.
A while later the hoist could be heard clanking to a halt, the gates being opened. Shifting some of the higher crates a little he was able to make enough of a gap to see through. Two women from
the floor below. A younger one followed them out pushing a barrow; her blue dustcoat was unbuttoned and she had a blouse on and jeans. She was pushing the barrow down towards him while the other
two stayed at the hoist gates chatting to the storeman. When she reached a stack about 20 yards off she stopped, and she bent to lift a big cardboard box onto the barrow, lifting one corner only,
and then sliding it on; but the weight caused the barrow to move, the box sliding back off to lie on the floor. The girl stood up. She glanced up to the others, she put her hands into the side
pockets of her dustcoat and she kicked gently at the cardboard box, making a whistling sound, a tune. The two women were coming. Tammas stood back from the gap between the crates; he lowered
himself down onto the sacking.
The man was saying: Naw, I dont give a fucking monkey’s; it’s wrong. He strode into the smoke-area and sat down facing Ralphie and Tammas. His mate followed him,
propped the brush he was carrying against the wall. How’s it going?
Ralphie shrugged. Tammas did not reply.
The first man frowned at them. You heard?
Heard what?
Heard what! The man frowned again and he gestured vaguely around . . . These fucking bastards in here. Fucking O.T. man!
O.T.?
Aye fucking O.T. man! They’re fucking working O.T. man and we’re fucking . . . bastards! He turned and he pointed at a guy who was standing by a machine some distance away. Him and
all the rest of the cunts up here.
Heh, said his mate, reaching to him and patting his arm. Take it easy.
Aye no fucking wonder. Make you fucking sick man we’re about to get laid off man and these cunts’re steaming into the fucking O.T.
Ralphie nodded.
The second man said: Did you know?
Put it this way Fred, I’m no
Tammas smiled. He had returned to the chair and was sitting with one elbow on the edge of the table, his other hand in his trouser pocket.
I know she barks at some of the poor old souls but at least she makes sure nobody takes what doesnt belong to them. Margaret smiled. And she can be cheery when she likes. Anyway, before she came
to the ward it was terrible; you could hardly leave a packet of biscuits down without there was somebody pinching it. Grannie was always losing things, it wasnt fair.
Aye. Did you no say she was a gossip but?
No. Margaret shook her head abruptly. The wee highland one? No, not at all; you’re mixing her up.
Mm.
Margaret turned, her back to him; she switched on the cold water tap and washed her hands. When she had dried them and returned the hand-towel to the rail she glanced at the clock again.
Eh Margaret . . . He stood up, nodded at the pots on the oven while lifting a dinner plate: Mind if I take mine the now? I’ll just eat it in the room if it’s okay. I’ve got a
book I’m reading.
•••
Three men in suits had appeared on the path outside the factory door. They gazed at the canal, one of them talking and the other two listening. Then a foreman came out to join
them. Tammas stepped out from the wall, he strode in their direction. He continued past them and in through the doorway. He strode on across the factory floor to the hoist but when he reached it he
paused, then carried straight on up the corridor, and he made his way round to the back staircase leading to the small storeroom on the top floor.
The man in charge was sitting up by the hoist with a clipboard of papers on his lap. Tammas watched him for a time, before sidling in from the fire-escape exit, and moving in behind the large
stacks of packing crates. Piles of old sacking lay in the corner. When he reached there he felt in at the bottom of some of it and brought out a couple of
Readers’ Digests
, and lowered
himself down onto the sacking.
A while later the hoist could be heard clanking to a halt, the gates being opened. Shifting some of the higher crates a little he was able to make enough of a gap to see through. Two women from
the floor below. A younger one followed them out pushing a barrow; her blue dustcoat was unbuttoned and she had a blouse on and jeans. She was pushing the barrow down towards him while the other
two stayed at the hoist gates chatting to the storeman. When she reached a stack about 20 yards off she stopped, and she bent to lift a big cardboard box onto the barrow, lifting one corner only,
and then sliding it on; but the weight caused the barrow to move, the box sliding back off to lie on the floor. The girl stood up. She glanced up to the others, she put her hands into the side
pockets of her dustcoat and she kicked gently at the cardboard box, making a whistling sound, a tune. The two women were coming. Tammas stood back from the gap between the crates; he lowered
himself down onto the sacking.
The man was saying: Naw, I dont give a fucking monkey’s; it’s wrong. He strode into the smoke-area and sat down facing Ralphie and Tammas. His mate followed him,
propped the brush he was carrying against the wall. How’s it going?
Ralphie shrugged. Tammas did not reply.
The first man frowned at them. You heard?
Heard what?
Heard what! The man frowned again and he gestured vaguely around . . . These fucking bastards in here. Fucking O.T. man!
O.T.?
Aye fucking O.T. man! They’re fucking working O.T. man and we’re fucking . . . bastards! He turned and he pointed at a guy who was standing by a machine some distance away. Him and
all the rest of the cunts up here.
Heh, said his mate, reaching to him and patting his arm. Take it easy.
Aye no fucking wonder. Make you fucking sick man we’re about to get laid off man and these cunts’re steaming into the fucking O.T.
Ralphie nodded.
The second man said: Did you know?
Put it this way Fred, I’m no
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